


A Very Random Anthology

by LyricalKris



Category: Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 01:48:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 43,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyricalKris/pseuds/LyricalKris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of OS intended as gifts for the people who make this fandom amazing for me. Here you will find E/B, E/Jas, A/Jas, B/Jas J gets a lot of action! , E/R. Angst. Humor. Crackfic. Romance. Enjoy with love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cella EB

**Author's Note:**

> The project: I am unbearably thankful to the wonderful women I have met in this fandom. I have enjoyed so many of you - whether we banter on twitter, you read and review my fics, or I read and try to be good about reviewing yours - that I wish I could express my appreciation to each and every one of you. Suffice to say, you've made me real happy y'all, and I love you.
> 
> However, there are a few members of this fandom that I wanted to thank personally, and what better time to do that than the holiday season? I don't subscribe to any religion or creed, but I do believe that there should be a time where you celebrate the people that mean the most to you.
> 
> So, because - like a little drummer boy some people sing about - I have nothing to give but my meager talents, I asked a few of my most favorite people to give me a prompt. Any pairing (except Jacob... I just can't), any storyline - picture, song... whatever. This collection is what they gave me, and I'm sharing it with all of you, hoping you'll get some enjoyment out of it too.
> 
> This collection of random o/s's are unbeta'ed (as my betas are among the recipients) and will come out as I write them - hopefully, but not guaranteed - finishing before Christmas. It's a completely mixed bag with mixed themes. There are cannon pairings, nc, and slash alike. I hope you enjoy a tale or two.
> 
> Merry Holidays!
> 
> LyricalKris

**Title: Five Christmases**  
 **Pairing: E/B**  
 **Rating: T (IKR?)**  
 **Recipient: CellaCullen**  
 **What you should read of theirs: Raising Bella - it's cute and AU.**  
 **Prompt: Bella is 12, Edward is 17 and playing Santa.**

 

**Songs: Santa Baby - Marilyn Monroe, A Wink and a Smile - Harry Connick, Jr.**

**Dear Friend: Thank you for being the first real friend I had in this fandom. I know we can fight like dogs, but I love you like a sister, in all your craziness.**

**~0~**

**Bella: 12, Edward: 17**

"Nobody is going to buy a seventeen year old, scrawny kid as Santa Claus."

Edward sighed, wondering if he should remind his boss and the soon-to-be ex-Santa that the scrawny kid was standing right in front of them. He stayed quiet, reminding himself that jobs for teenagers were scarce in Forks and he needed the money. He would be Santa if they asked, even if he agreed with "Butt-Crack Santa" that no seventeen year old kid should be the Jolly One.

"Waylon," Mrs. Garrett said, crossing her arms, "You're not hardly bigger than he is, and at least I can depend on Edward not to come in drunk," she hissed.

They continued bickering, but of course, the boss won out in the end. That was how Edward Cullen, seventeen year old junior at Forks High School, found himself wearing a Santa costume as the local kiddies were placed on his lap. A few parents looked bemused, but mostly people just went with it. One just went with a lot of things when it came to living in a town of 3,000.

One Saturday afternoon, as Edward sat trying not to chatter in the bitterly cold, Forks winter air, he noticed a group of whispering girls standing near, but not in the line. This happened occasionally. They looked to be around twelve - that age where they weren't quite through with childish things but they were beginning to become awkward about them. That Halloween, they'd probably dressed up, but they were keenly aware of the dubious stares they received from the doors they'd knocked on.

There was a girl with soft, almost blond, almost brown hair, a girl with straight black hair and a girl with flowing, deep brown hair - the color of the bark on the evergreen pines that weren't covered in evergreen moss. They were arguing in that that little girl giggling way - between clenched teeth and titters, kind of pushing at each other. As child after child was put on his lap, Edward watched the girls - wondering if any of them would give in to their childish urges.

Finally the blond/brown haired one pushed the little brunette into the short line. The brunette made to protest, but then she seemed to steel herself and stayed in the line as her wide-eyed friends looked on.

It didn't take her long to get to him.

She approached, as gangly and awkward as any girl her age. She didn't look like a child anymore but she hadn't begun to look like a woman yet. She stared down at her feet, blushing furiously and hesitating when it was her turn.

"Have you forgotten how this is done?" he teased gently. "You're supposed to come up here and tell Santa what you want for Christmas."

Her head shot up and she looked at him curiously. "You don't think I'm too old to sit on your lap?" she asked, adorably reticent with her big, doe eyes and her too big for her head ears.

"It's Christmas," he said, shrugging and grinning at her. "I don't think there are any rules when it comes to Christmas."

She smiled at that and he couldn't help but wonder if she still got lost in fantasies. It was, he thought, a bad thing when one lost sight of fanciful things. Gingerly, she sat on his laps, her hands folded in front of her. "So tell me, what do you want to ask Santa for?" he asked.

Her lips pursed and she gave him an amused look, but she played along. She sighed and said the last thing he'd ever expect to hear. "Do you know what would be great? If my dad wasn't alone anymore." Her smile then was rueful. "Can you do anything about that?"

Edward didn't know how to answer her. But then, the benefit to her being twelve and not four is that she didn't expect him to be all knowing.

They were interrupted then by Mrs. Garret clearing her throat. Seeming to realize that there were other,  _real_ kids waiting for their turn, Bella blushed brightly and almost hopped down. Edward held her tightly for a moment. "Hold on."

Her eyes snapped to his.

"You get a picture," he explained.

Shy, she turned to the camera and smiled.

Just as she was about to scamper away to her waiting friends - both of whom looked like they were ready to burst - Edward called out to her, "What's your name?" It was usually his first question to the little boys and girls. For some reason, it seemed important that he know.

Again, she blushed. "Bella," she said quietly, and then hurried over to where her friends were waiting.

**Bella: 17, Edward: 22**

It was a little over a week before Christmas, five years later, that he saw her again.

He was just one semester away from having to grow up completely. The cusp of manhood, his father had called it, waxing poetic. Edward didn't think it was the cusp of anything except complete terror. Up until then his life was somewhat orderly. Middle school had followed grade school, high school had followed middle school, and then onto a good college. He knew how to work hard and get good grades. In a semester's time he would have to figure out what the next step was.

So Edward wasn't thinking about much of anything except what it is he wanted to do with that expensive piece of paper they were going to hand him at graduation as he walked down Forks's tiny, main street. He'd told his parents that he still had Christmas shopping left to do, but Edward was a meticulous planner. All of his gifts had been bought and wrapped for weeks. Really he'd just needed to walk in the biting cold air to try to clear his head.

One minute he was walking along - eyebrows furrowed and deep in thought – the next minute something made him look up. A distance from him, walking similarly with her head down through the pouring rain, was a woman, a girl, really. She looked up then, and their eyes met for the space of one breath before all hell broke loose.

The perpetual cloud cover of Forks is something its residents ignored most of the time. It was like the huge, moss-covered trees that surrounded them – you really didn't notice that they were even there most of the time. Until an evening like that one.

Thunder boomed and the sky split, a pure white bolt of lightning coming out of the blackness to strike the tree the girl was standing under. Her head whipped up, and he could see, in that split second, her eyes go wide with wonder and fright.

The next thing he knew, he was already in motion.  _Not her,_ a voice in his head screamed, as he ran. The lightning had struck a large branch and he could see the scene as if in slow motion. She was standing right under it. It would crush her. There was no way he would get to her on time.

Except that he did.

As a physics major, Edward knew that he shouldn't have been able to cover the distance between them in the time it took the deadly branch to fall. After an extensive Google search, he would come to the conclusion that it must have been a hell of an adrenaline rush. At that moment, though, it simply didn't matter. What did matter was that he  _did_ make it to her on time.

He grabbed the stunned girl around the waist, pulling her backward. Stray twigs scratched at her face and arms, making her cry out. The momentum of her body slamming into his sent them both flying backward.

Maybe it was because of the way they landed – Edward's ass on the ground and her in his lap – that he suddenly figured out why she looked so familiar. "Bella?" His voice sounded strangled and startled. He readjusted her so he could look at her face, assess any damage.

Her face is bone pale and her eyelids fluttering rapidly as she tried to process what had just happened. His fingers gently swept her hair back, examining the superficial scratches. The rain poured down so any blood was washed away instantly.

"Bella?" he said again, stroking her cheek worriedly. Abruptly, her eyes focused on him. She blinked. "Are you alright?" he asked worriedly.

"Y-yeah," she said shakily. People were gathering around them now and she seemed to shrink against him as they closed in. Edward was acutely aware of the way her hands fisted the front of his coat, pulling herself closer to him. Despite the bitterly cold rain, a warmth spread from the center of his chest. She felt safe with him.

"Are you alright? Can you stand? Come on. Come in out of the rain," a voice cut in, shaking them both into action.

Edward stood carefully, keeping his arms around her. She was shaking now, adrenaline waning into delayed terror. He followed the beckoning stranger into a little shop.

"I almost died," she said numbly as he guided her into a chair.

"You're fine," Edward assured, slipping her soaking wet jacket off her and grabbing the thick, dry one the stranger held out. Apparently, they were in a tiny clothing shop. At that moment, Edward was nothing but thankful. He was worried she was going into shock. He knew he needed to get her warm and calm.

As he pulled the jacket tighter around her, Bella's eyes focused on him. "You saved my life," she breathed. "You were far away from me. How did you get to me so fast?"

The relief he felt was tremendous. There was a pressure around his heart that lessened immediately as she spoke and he let out a slow, even breath. She would be fine if her thought process was already catching up with the events that had just transpired. "I don't know," he answered her question honestly, sitting beside her. "I'm really glad I did, though."

He took the towel that the shop owner proffered and began to dry her hair. She was still shaking, but her eyes were much calmer. She tugged at the jacket, wondering if she should feel self-conscious. Honestly, his hands in her hair, even through the towel, felt like heaven. She smiled, that same, shy smile that he remembered. "Thank you." Then she furrowed her eyebrows, something just occurring to her. "How did you know my name? Do I know you?"

He chuckled, finding the perplexed look on her face adorable. "You sat on my lap five years ago," he murmured.

Her eyes went a little wide, and he realized abruptly how perverted that sounded. "I mean… I was playing Santa. I think your friends might have dared you to do it."

She tilted her head, trying to remember. As she studied his face, he studied hers, noting how she had grown into her features, going from awkward to…well… pretty. Her eyes, as they bore into his, were deep – speaking of five years more experience and thoughts that had been beyond her in childhood. They were brown, like the most pleasing shade of coffee – not dark enough to be black, light enough to be transparent. Her ears, he noted with amusement, did not look nearly as large, though they still stuck out slightly. And her lips….

His gaze lingered on her lips. He was still somewhat mesmerized by them when she started speaking again. "They did dare me. I remember now. I was twelve."

Unfortunately for Edward, his math skills were beyond stellar. It took him less than a second to realize that if she was 12 then, she was 17 now. And he was 22.

He put a little distance between them.

She seemed puzzled by his sudden retreat but thankfully didn't call him on it. Instead she asked, "How did you remember me?"

At that his mouth quirked up at the corner. "I remember that I thought you were braver than your friends. Even if you pushed them the way they pushed you, I bet they would have chickened out," he teased gently.

She blushed, looking down at her hands.

"And I remember what you asked for. Not a lot of people – kids or adults – would spend a Christmas wish on someone else," he said softly, and that was the truth. Often, when he saw or heard of people at their worst, he remembered that little girl and her selfless wish that her father find someone.

"My dad always makes sure I have what I need," she explained quietly. "He had been lonely for a long time."

Despite the fact that the logical part of him screamed that he should be wary – people might not understand what interest a 22 year old man would have with a high school junior – Edward couldn't seem to walk away from Bella. Instead, he bought her the coat she was wearing over her protests. She agreed only if she could buy them both a hot coffee at the diner.

They talked well into the evening, and Bella told him a story about how, shortly after Christmas five years ago, one of her father's best friends – Sue Clearwater – started coming over more often. Sue was recently divorced from her husband, Harry. It took some time, especially given that Charlie Swan was also friends with Harry, but three years ago, he and Sue had married. Bella had a younger step-brother named Seth who she absolutely adored and an older step-sister named Leah who thankfully lived with her father in La Push.

"It was a little late, but thanks for coming through, Santa," she teased him over the table.

"Better late than never," he returned easily, smiling because he couldn't help himself.

**Bella: 18, Edward: 23**

They fell in love over the course of that first winter break, though Edward was slow to admit it. It was only two days before he had to leave to get back to Seattle when he finally, finally kissed her. And then he had panicked.

They argued about their relationship. Bella was all for it, not understanding what the big deal was. Five years was not a huge age difference. Besides, she'd said, she was mature for her age and he was immature.

She'd stuck her tongue out at him.

He'd rolled his eyes. " _Very mature_."

She had kissed him again then, calming his arguments about the fact that he was corrupting an innocent child – she scoffed – and, and, and, her father had a gun. And a badge. And a  _gun,_ dammit.

But he was kissing her back before he could help himself.

" _I can keep a secret for nine months if you can_ ," she'd said, sitting in his lap in the backseat of his Volvo. She'd touched his lips with the pads of her fingers. " _Please_ ," she said quietly, having figured out that he could deny her nothing when she asked like that – her big eyes wide and innocent.

He'd groaned, pulling her tight against him. "You are the most dangerous creature I've ever met."

She drove up to visit him every other weekend or so. In Seattle, it wasn't hard to find places to go where no one they knew would see them. In Forks they stole kisses in the darkness.

As the year progressed she'd wanted to give him her virginity. That he'd put his foot down about, refusing to touch her that way until she was 18.

In his parent's empty house, in the room he'd had since he was an infant, Edward and Bella made love for the first time a week after her 18th birthday. He wanted to give her soft candlelight and rose petals. She was happy that it was him. No matter what happened between them eventually – because they both knew the odds were stacked against them – she was glad that her first time was with the first man she'd ever loved.

Now it was Christmastime again, and Edward was nervous. They were going to go public with their relationship.

Bella's father still had a gun and a badge.

Charlie Swan was  _not_ pleased. Carlisle and Esme Cullen were a little bewildered that their highly logical son would make such an illogical choice. However, eventually, both sets of parents saw for themselves – Edward and Bella's love was true. Bella, Charlie knew, had a level head on her shoulders. She would not make the same mistakes he'd made with her mother. Carlisle and Esme knew that something had changed in their often too serious son. He was calmer now – happier. If Bella was the reason then it couldn't be all bad, could it.

Besides, the three parents knew they'd raised their children to make smart choices and be their own people. Though they were worried, all three of them gave their blessing and their support.

Even if Charlie did it whilst innocently cleaning his gun.

**Bella: 22, Edward: 27**

Five years has made such a difference. Again.

Edward and Bella now lived in a modest apartment in Seattle. She was one semester from finishing her degree in biological sciences. He had long since finished his graduate program and was making good money as a physicist. Their life, together and separately, was good. Like any couple, they'd had their problems. They'd managed to weather each storm together, and Edward couldn't remember what life was like without her by his side.

That morning, he woke her slowly. His chest was pressed against her back, skin to skin. He swept her hair away from her shoulder so he could kiss her there – where her shoulder met her neck. Bella stirred with a little moan that drove him crazy. "Wake up," he whispered, kissing along her ear.

"Na uh," she mumbled, snuggling back against him.

Her wiggling was going to start things they didn't have time to finish. She knew it too. She reached back, and Edward forced himself to back away from her questing hand. She pouted, making a disgruntled noise, and he chuckled.

"We don't have time, Bella. We're going to be late for brunch," he reminded.

She rolled over, pulling him back to her. "Don't care."

"Emmett will tease us again," he said between kisses.

That made Bella pause. Last year they'd been late getting to brunch and Edward's older brother had mercilessly peppered the afternoon with sexual innuendo. In front of Bella's father.

"Rosalie will hit him," Bella decided, running her hands up and down Edward's back.

"He likes it when Rosalie hits him," Edward countered, nipping at her lips gently.

Bella sighed into his mouth. "You're a brat."

Edward grinned incorrigibly. "I know." His smile softened, and he stroked her cheek. "I love you."

Her answering smile was full of adoration. "I know."

For long moments he merely stared, thinking about how much he loved this woman and how endlessly lucky he was to have her in his arms. Then, steeling himself, he reached behind him to the object he'd placed on the nightstand before he'd climbed back into bed with her.

"I have a present for you that I want to give you now," he began.

"That's cheating," she said disapprovingly, but her eyes were curious.

Edward said nothing, but put the small box in her hand.

It was a ring box.

"Edward," she breathed.

"I know you wanted to wait until after you've graduated to talk about marriage… but the thing is, Bella, I'll never want anyone but you, as long as I live. I don't care when. If you want to wait until we're more settled or…whatever you want. Just… I would like you to wear this, as a symbol of my love and my intent." He helped her open the box, revealing a ring that sparkled as brilliantly as the tears in her eyes. "Isabella Swan. Will you marry me? Someday?"

She giggled then, a tear escaping her eye as she threaded her fingers through his hair, kissing him passionately. "Yes. Yes. I will."

They were late to brunch that year.

**Bella: 25, Edward: 30**

They'd married in August, several months after Bella graduated from the university. Since then they'd both been moderately successful in their chosen fields. They had grown together, their relationship as strong as ever.

Celebrating the purchase of their first home, Christmas was going to be celebrated at their house this year, and so Edward and Bella were not in a rush to get up. They enjoyed their last hour or so of peace before the house was barraged with guests.

"I have something for you," Bella said.

Her leg was hitched up around his waist, and her lips were all over his face and neck. "I have everything I want right here," he growled, holding her ever closer.

She pulled back slightly, and he was surprised to see nervousness in her eyes. "I really hope that's true," she mumbled. Before he could process the not entirely happy expression on her face, Bella reached for something on her nightstand.

It was a gift. A book shaped gift.

They sat up against the headboard, and Edward watched her face carefully as he unwrapped the present. She was biting her lip. She was scaring him.

He looked down at the book in his hands.  _My Boys Can Swim!: The Official Guy's Guide to Pregnancy_ by Ian Davis.

His breath left him in one big gust.

"Edward. Breathe," Bella said, worriedly stroking his face. Was he going into shock?

Edward's eyes shot to her. "Are you … you're..."

"Pregnant?" Bella supplied. She bit her lip again. "Yes," she whispered.

One beat. Two.

"You're sure?"

She nodded. "I-I I know we didn't plan this, but-."

He cut her off by attacking her. His hands wrapped around her, pulling her onto his lap so he could kiss her senseless. "We're having a baby?" he asked incredulously, kissing her again before she could answer.

"Yes," she said, giggling between kisses. "You're happy?"

"Are you happy?" he countered.

A slow, glowing smile spread across her face. "I'm scared," she admitted. "But yes. Very. Very. Happy."

As they cuddled and kissed, Bella's eyes fell on the photo that rested, framed, on their dresser. It was their first picture together. Her twelve year old self sat lightly, if a little awkwardly, on his seventeen year old lap. It was a strange and unlikely way to meet, but then, that was them - strange and unlikely.

And they wouldn't change it for the world.

**~Fin~**

**A/N: As for my Cella…well… she is just strange and unlikely.**

**And I wouldn't change her for the world.**


	2. Jadedandboring ER

**Title: Sonnet 141**   
**Pairing: E/R (Ewwww)**   
**Rating: M**   
**Recipient: jadedandboring**   
**What you should read of theirs: The Kubler-Ross Model - angsty, real and amazing.**   
**Prompt: Roseward - Must have hot lemons**   
**Songs: Ugly - The Exies, Control - Puddle of Mudd, I Hate Everything About You - Three Days Grace**   
**Dear Friend: Thank you for being there to put up with all my insanity when I'm writing - especially when I was freaking out. I don't know that I could have finished We Don't Break without your help. I love you so much I'm writing Roseward for you - and you and I both know that's saying something. Also - you make gorgeous boy babies.**

**~0~**

When he opened the door and found Rosalie standing there, no part of him was surprised. It was inevitable. Despite Edward's best efforts, he hadn't realized until too late that she was watching him at that Oscar's after party.

To Rosalie Hale, Edward Cullen was invisible unless he was interested in a woman who was not her. Then, she appeared in a black cloud of smoke and evil, dressed in something sinful with knowing smirk on her face. The minute he opened the door he was assaulted by the scent of the perfume she wore. She knew that particular aroma drove him crazy. It was mouthwatering, and she'd trained him enough that, in true Pavlovian style, when he smelled it, he automatically grew hard.

Rosalie only ever wanted one thing from him.

It wasn't about the sex - though he knew for a fact that he was the best she'd ever had. It was about the fact that she knew he was thinking about someone else. Imagining her naked curves under his hands. Imagining her moans and the way she would call his name. Imagining tasting her, and touching her, and seeing her become undone because of him.

It wasn't enough, to Rosalie, that she was most men's fantasy. What drove her crazy was the thought that she wasn't Edward's.

Oh, they'd had their turn. When there were both fresh faces among Hollywood elite, tabloids always sighed that they were perfect for each other. Why not? The bad-ass, blond bombshell and the suave, sexy leading man were the Hollywood equivalent of the head cheerleader and the captain of the football team. At some point they were just inevitable. But Edward had quickly grown bored with her.

To add insult to injury, she'd left her then-boyfriend Royce King for Edward - a move which caught her no small amount of scorn with the gossip rags. Then he'd ditched her faster than you could say, "Vapid blondes aren't my type."

He supposed he shouldn't complain. After all, this was Hollywood. Exes in this town seemed to take great pride in just how thoroughly they could destroy one another. Angry, hate sex with your former significant other was supposed to be a perk.

Except that Rosalie wanted the one thing that Edward prized: control. He prided himself in being a gentleman where most in the game were scoundrels and fakes. He hated playing games. More than that, he hated being played, and Rosalie - like some pockmarked, glasses-wearing, Mountain-Dew-addicted nerd who still lived in his mother's basement - knew every button he had.

Edward put his hand against the doorway, blocking her entrance. He said nothing. Experience had taught him that she would twist his words against him.

She scoffed. "Invite me in. You and I both know you're not busy with Norma Jeane," Rosalie began.

"Go away," he said flatly, instantly trying to slam the door in her face. Rosalie was too quick, swiftly putting her stiletto heel in the doorway. She cried out as the door caught her heel and part of her foot.

And even though he knew she was counting her first victory - slamming the door in any one's face was something Edward considered rude and unnecessary, hurting her was worse - his immediate response was to open the door.

Rosalie leaned heavily on him. "You ass. You could have broken my foot."

"My suggestion is that you not put it in the way of a shutting door next time," he barked at her, but he put a steadying arm around her waist as he said it. "Oh, stop moaning. I'm sure it's fine. Come sit here." He helped her hobble to the couch in the sitting room just to the side of the entryway, rolling his eyes at her dramatics.

Kneeling, he slipped off her heel, examining her foot. "I am going to make sure you're capable of walking, and then you're going to leave. Are we clear on that?"

She swallowed a yelp as he pressed her tender skin. "I don't know why you're so angry with me, Edward. I haven't done anything to you."

"Cut the crap. I know you saw last night," he spat, glaring up at her as he rotated her foot gently. "That's why you're here." Confirming for himself that her foot was just fine, Edward stood and stared down at her, his arms crossed.

Rosalie looked up from beneath long lashes, her face awash with innocence and her lip pouting out ever so slightly. "Of course. Your date was quite the catch, even for you. I just wanted to catch up. Chat a little about your good fortune." She smiled at him, brushing his thigh with the back of her hand. "Isn't it high time we tried to be friends?"

Batting her hand away, Edward took a step back. "We're not going to be friends. If you just wanted a little friendly chatter, why come here unannounced? Were you hoping to catch her here?"

Her look turned just a little condescending - like one might tease a good friend when he was being slightly obvious. "Like I said before, I knew she wasn't here." She tilted her head as if deep in thought. "She's different than a lot of the rest of us, isn't she? She doesn't seem the type to go home with a man she's only just begun to date."

"What makes you think we've only begun to date?" he countered.

"Please. People's Most Eligible Bachelor and Hollywood's shiny, new toy? You two have lit up every website and landed in every paper as of this morning." Her voice betrayed a hint of bitterness.

"Green isn't your best color, Rosalie," he sneered, walking away from her and to the bar against the wall. He hated that she made him feel this way: vindictive.

"I just don't understand the appeal, that's all," she replied with practiced nonchalance. "Bella Swan is as plain vanilla as they come. She's...wholesome. Where's the fun in that?"

Edward knew all of this, of course. It was part of what had drawn him to Bella in the first place. In this town, everyone came with baggage; everyone was hiding something. Bella Swan either hadn't learned the game or didn't care to play. She was an open book and hadn't lost the naive innocence yet.

"Your earlier comparison hardly fits then, does it?" he bit out. Even he could hear the warning edge in his voice.

Because people were cruel and wanted, in their heart of hearts, to see her bleeding and raw, Bella's naiveté meant she was often hurt by the things people said and did. Outwardly, she held herself tall, but Edward had seen the pain in her eyes when it happened. He felt inexplicably protective toward her; as if there was nothing more he wanted than to shield her from the barbs that came with being a part of their world.

Rosalie was exactly the kind of person he wanted to keep away.

"I suppose not," she acquiesced. "Marilyn Monroe was beautiful after all."

Edward slammed the tumbler of whiskey he'd poured down on the bar. He struggled to control his fury.

"She'll bore you," Rosalie was saying, and he heard the rustle of clothing as she stood. "She won't have a clue how to please you," she murmured near his ear, standing right behind him now.

"As if you would know what she's like in bed." Edward didn't bother to turn around to acknowledge her. She would be standing there with that knowing smirk of hers.

She snickered and reached past him to pick up a glass of her own. "Mike Newton told me," she said as she fixed herself a drink. "He said it took him forever to get between her legs, the frigid cow, and that it wasn't worth the effort. He stopped calling her after that."

Rosalie was amused.

Edward was livid.

"Have you ever thought it was Mike Newton's performance that was lacking and not hers?" he asked venomously, moving quickly away from her and to the window. "I seem to recall you didn't have many good things to say about the nights you spent with your legs in the air for him. Flopping fish, and five minutes in the dark, wasn't it?"

Her answer was to step behind him again, only this time she didn't stop. She pressed herself against his back as she snaked one hand around, cupping him through his pants. "She won't satisfy you," she said against his ear, her tone sultry and promising him pleasure that he knew for a fact she could bring.

He took a deep breath, summoning his willpower. Usually he had no problem sidestepping women who all but threw themselves at him - he was a celebrity and ridiculously good-looking after all - but it was different with Rose. Her smell surrounded him, making his head spin. Her fingers worked over him expertly, making his hard-on go from barely present to unmistakably there. His irritation was likewise growing by the second.

As she moved for his zipper he grabbed her, his long fingers circling her wrist in an almost-harsh grip. He kept hold of her, turning around and bringing himself to his full height. She was a statuesque woman, but he was still taller and wider than she was. He leaned down, his face so close that his breath made the skin of her nose hot. "Don't touch me, Rose."

Rosalie was not one to be intimidated. She stepped forward, forcing him to step back until his back was up against the window. The glass, cold against his back even through the cloth of his shirt, was not enough to cool the spiking heat between them. He wanted to throttle her.

He wanted to kiss her.

Given that he couldn't hit a woman, he knew how this would end and so did she. Her hands were in his hair then, pulling his head down the few inches she needed. "Don't tell me what to do, Edward."

She kissed him then, her lips hard against his and her hands flat on his chest. His body ached to respond to hers - itched to pull her toward him because he knew he could be rough with her. There had never been anything soft or tender between the two of them.

His self-control was nearly gone.

And if it was going to go anyway, he was damn well going to be in control of it.

His hands shot out, grabbing her arms and forcing her arms length away from him. Then he spun her around and to the side, pressing her front first against the wall. Before she could even gasp he'd wound her long, golden hair around his fist, pulling it to the side and sinking his teeth into the skin of her neck. "Don't mark me, you asshole," she yelled sharply, but her neck was tilted to the side as she spoke. "I have to work tomorrow."

He snickered, dragging his lips up to her ear. "Don't tell me what to do, Rosalie," he sneered. "I'm sure your make-up team has had to cover up much worse." He nipped hard at her skin again, making her pant. "Don't lie to me. You know I can tell when you're lying. You just don't want to explain this to Emmett, do you?"

"You are such," she gritted out as he attacked her neck, "a fucking prick."

With his hand still gripping her hair, he pulled her head back, causing her to cry out. She was stunning like this: neck and shoulders arched in a graceful curve, her pretty face flushed, her breasts heaving as she panted. Her eyes met his, burning with hate and desire at once. "This is my house, and you started this game, sweetheart," he said lowly. "Are you telling me you can't finish it?"

Her mouth turned up in a Cheshire cat grin. "He's bigger than you are, you know. It behooves me to keep a man around who can actually satisfy me."

In response he released her hair, moving instead to the zipper at the back of her dress. He ripped it down, the long  _ziiiippp_ echoing in the large room. He moved his hands to her shoulders and yanked the fabric down. "If he's so fucking satisfying, why the hell do I find you at my door every month or so? Hmm?" As he spoke he pulled the dress all the way down, spilling it in a puddle around her high-heeled feet. "Fuck," he muttered, taking in what she was wearing beneath the very little dress she'd had on.

Garter belt. Black. Bra. Sheer black and showing every curvaceous inch of her cleavage. Panties. Missing.

The humph sound she made was supremely satisfied. "Silly boy. I told you before. I don't come here for me, I come here for you." She pushed her fit-perfectly-in-his-palm ass back, grinding it against his crotch. She leered at him. "Do you think you'd ever have Bella Swan like this?"

His hands smacked sharply on either side of her ass as he pressed her hard against the wall, effectively stilling her movements. "You're right. I'd never have her like this because  _when_ I fuck Bella, I'll want to look her in the eyes."

With his hands still on her hips, he pulled her away from the wall, propelling her forward the few steps to the couch. He pushed her over the arm, loosening the clasp of her bra as he did. He paused for a second then, catching his breath. It frightened him that he could get like this - that he could enjoy seeing her so exposed at his hands.

"Whatever you need to tell yourself," she said, waving her ass at him tauntingly. "It makes it easier to pretend you're someone else anyway."

With a growl he positioned himself over her, He pushed down his pants and boxers quickly, using his knees to spread her legs further apart. She had such gorgeous, long legs. "Tell me something Rosalie," he said as he rubbed his cock teasingly along her folds, letting her wetness coat him, "Emmett would see a bite at your neck, but what about here?" He bent down, biting down hard enough to leave a mark on one pert ass cheek. She yelped and he admired his handiwork, enjoying the way the red crescent impression stood out against her white, satin skin. He chuffed. "I bet he never gets you naked - just finds the nearest convenient hole and plunges in."

"Jesus you talk too fucking much," she grumbled back. "It's no wonder you want such a boring girl. She'd be the only one that could stand to listen to you for more than five minutes."

He grabbed a fistful of her hair again, hauling her somewhat upright. "Maybe I shouldn't give you the pleasure of fucking you. Maybe I should make you shut up by finding something else to do with that dirty mouth of yours."

Rosalie twisted in his grasp, grinning at him with a smile that was all teeth. A wordless threat.

That was the trouble with hate sex. If you tried to get a blow job you were more than likely going to get a spite bite.

He let go of her hair, placing one hand on her upper back and forcing her down. Without any further teasing he thrust himself inside her with one, two, three bucks of his hips. She let out a low moan. Her position may have been degrading, but from the noises she was making he could tell it hit her in all the right places.

He didn't bother to start out slow, pounding into her hard and fast. His skin slapped against hers with a satisfying thwack with each thrust into her. Rosalie arched her back, her moans increasing in volume and pitch as he fucked her.

"Fuck, you always were such a noisy bitch," he muttered, never admitting that the sounds of her cries riled him up in a way no one else had ever accomplished.

"Shut. Up," she said, her words choppy as her body rocked with the force he slammed into her with. "Fuck. Me. Harder."

He growled, complying with her request and upping his pace. She worked with him, pushing herself back at him at the rhythm he set. "Fuck, oh Jesus," he swore under his breath. She was tight and fit him so perfectly.

It took only minutes for them both to be worked up to the edge of coming. He could always tell when she was about to orgasm. Right before she could get all the way there, he grabbed her arms, forcing them back and pulling her almost upright. Rosalie outright screamed as he slid deeper inside her. "Fuck. Yes."

"Say my name," he demanded, squeezing her arms tighter.

She groaned. "Edward. Yes. God. Yes." He felt her begin to tighten around him, and he accompanied her in the throes of a screaming orgasm.

The aftermath was the complete and utter opposite of their whole encounter thus far. Edward's legs were shaking as he slid out of her and stepped away. Rosalie stood slowly, but he didn't look at her, instead stepping around her as he pulled his pants up. He sat heavily on the couch, his head in his hands. He hated this part - realizing he'd failed again. He'd used a woman's body for his own pleasure - hurt her even, though he knew that excited her. He'd acted with anger with something that should have been beautiful, or at the very least intimate.

For a moment he heard nothing, and then there was just the sound of her picking up discarded clothing. It finally occurred to him that the gentlemanly thing would be to help her. Frustrated with how completely he lost sight of himself around her, Edward stood and moved to help Rosalie zip up her dress.

"Don't," she hissed, twisting away from his hands.

Once, after a night much like this one, she had drunkenly admitted that she hated it as much as he did. She wanted to stop. She did. But somehow, she always found herself in front of his door.

She hated that he had that power over her. Rosalie Hale was a strong, stubborn woman, but for him, she was weak.

So she took back what power she could as she picked herself up, leaving him to just watch with a quiet ache in his heart. He never wanted to hate this woman. He even admired her a great deal.

Rosalie said nothing as she slipped her coat back on, clinching it tightly around her, and headed toward the door.

"Rose," he called softly.

She stopped but didn't turn around.

"I really like this one. I want to try with her." He paused, watching her shoulders rise and fall with her breath. "And I want to be your friend."

For a few heartbeats there was silence between them. Then Rosalie's shoulders slumped slightly as she sighed. She looked over her shoulder, and though she was smiling there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "I don't make promises I can't keep," she said flatly.

And then she was gone.

**~Fin~**

**A/N: Darling jaded... I hope you will forgive me this not so HEA. This is how the story presented itself. Ilysfm. Freally. Freaaallllly.**

**Huge thank yous to TwilightMundi who agreed to beta this collection of horror, and Giselle-lx who helped me in the middle of the night when I was yelling "omfg, am I writing this right?"**


	3. Makkitotosimew AJ

**Title: Five Christmases**   
**Pairing: A/J**   
**Rating: M**   
**Recipient: Makkitotosimew (Seriously - what does it mean?)**   
**What you should read of theirs: Her B/E O/s's are adorbs but if she ever publishes Resistance, the world of femmeslash will never be the same.**   
**Prompt: Jasper/Alice based on the song Last Christmas as sung by the Glee cast. No fair listening to a diff version.**   
**Songs: Last Christmas - Glee Cast, Again - Janet Jackson, All I Want For Christmas Is You - Mariah Carey.**   
**Dear Friend: You make me giggle constantly. You put up with my shenanigans (mostly), and you make sure I'm always aware of Kristen haters (um...should I be thanking you for that?). I love you lots.**

**~0~**

" _ **Once bitten and twice shy  
I keep my distance, but you still catch my eye  
Tell me baby, do you recognize me?  
Well it's been a year, it doesn't surprise me  
Happy Christmas  
I wrapped it up and sent it  
With a note saying 'I love you', I meant it  
Now I know what a fool I've been  
But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again"**_

_**~Last Christmas, The Glee Cast** _

**December 2010**

A year could change a lot of things. A year ago I had long hair and a horrible fashion sense. A year ago I was very much in love, and my best friend Emmett Cullen laughed at folks like me who wanted things like steady relationships.

Now I had a bitching, spiky haircut that came with a whole new attitude. Sure, I was nursing the remnants of a broken heart, but in the wake of that spectacular clusterfuck, I was personally thriving. I was dating a very sweet man who I enjoyed being around. And now here Emmett was, sitting in front of me with a goofy grin and dimples so deep you could shove nickels in them, telling me about Rosalie's latest plans for their winter-themed wedding.

"So, I'm supposed to ask you if you've narrowed down your choices for a bridesmaid dress," Emmett said. "You're the only one who doesn't have a dress, and the wedding is in three weeks."

"I found the most gorgeous dress," I sighed, remembering how perfect the silk fit against my skin. "But, I think it's out of our price range."

"Really, Al, anything you want. Price is no object."

My eyebrows shot up. "Price is no object. Okay, what's going on?"

I saw the flash of guilt in his eyes before Emmett tried for a disarming grin. "I don't know what you're talking about. We just want you to be happy."

The look I was giving him then was called the hairy eyeball, I believe. First off, Rosalie had a lot of qualities, but sharing the spotlight was not one of them. She would definitely care if my dress upstaged hers. "Emmett," I warned shortly.

He kind of sagged. "Rosalie wants you to be there. I want you to be there. I can't imagine getting married without you there, Ali."

"But?"

"But Jasper is invited," Emmett blurted finally.

Oh.

**~0~**

**January of 2009**

Rosalie Hale and I had been friends the instant we met at orientation six months ago. She said I was the only one she could stand to listen to for more than a few minutes at a time. There were no shortage of brain donors where we worked, that was for sure. The problem with Rosalie and me was that we were both smart as whips, but no one would believe it because we didn't have a fine piece of paper from a degree-granting institution.

Like me, Rosalie hadn't been able to just start college. We'd both entered the workforce at 18, landing office jobs and then moving on to customer support. It was, undoubtedly, the second rung of hell, the first being retail of course. There was no way either of us could do retail. At least in our jobs we could hit the mute button and curse the hell out of the customer with them being none the wiser. We were both way too mouthy for face to face client interaction. And customers were way too stupid.

By the time we met, we were both 21, and onto our second customer support job. One thing I was learning quickly was that you couldn't stay too long working customer service for the same company - it was just too soul crushing. It was better after I found Rose. We made the workday a little more bearable for each other, and we understood what it was like to work our way through college.

Which brought us to that fateful day.

"Alice, come on. I know you have to fill your P.E. credit too. Tell me there's something you'd rather do besides swing dance," Rose was pleading with me. I knew I should have been suspicious when she brought me to Rubios. She hates the smell of fish tacos.

"I thought you said your roommate is going to sign up," I hedged. I loved to dance, honestly, but the years of ballet my mother had subjected me to made me hate dancing under instruction. I preferred to let the rhythm move my hips where they wanted to go.

"He is, but I want-"

"Wait a minute...your roommate is a he?" Rosalie and the roommate had been living together for a couple of weeks now. I'd just assumed it was a girl. This was the first time any sort of gender had been thrown around.

Rosalie quirked an eyebrow. "Is that a problem?"

"Is he gay?" I asked, curious. Not a lot of straight guys would willingly subject themselves to dance.

Rose snorted derisively. "Yeah, right. In the two weeks he's been there, I've been subjected to three girls dressed only in his shirts."

I wrinkled my nose. "Pig."

"Eh," she shrugged. "Doesn't bother me. He hasn't tried to get anywhere near my lady bits, and he's good company otherwise."

I thought about this and sighed, knowing Rosalie would eventually get her way. "Fine. I'll sign up if there's still room."

**~0~**

A couple weeks later, the class began. I was sitting on the floor, stretching and watching people, when  _he_ walked into the room.

He had a swagger.

Like motherfucking Jack Sparrow. Or Han Solo.

He stopped just inside the doorway, all lean, long limbs and shaggy, blond hair. He appeared to be looking for someone, his lips pursed in this pout - my GOD that pout - and his eyes squinting as he glanced around the room. It was the oddest sensation I'd ever felt. My face got clammy and breath got reedy. My brain literally scattered - thoughts breaking apart like glass skittering across the floor as it broke.

And then Rosalie spoke the words that sealed my doom. "Jasper! Over here!"

The grin that spread across his face then was lopsided.

Like motherfucking Jack Sparrow. Or Han Solo.

**~0~**

Every second I spent in Jasper's presence only dug me deeper. I'd heard the term 'a voice that dripped sex' before, but I'd always rolled my eyes. What did that even mean? Jasper personified the idea for me. His voice was low, but liquid in a way that automatically invoked the feeling of bare, slick, heated skin against mine. He introduced himself as Jasper Whitlock with just a hint of soft, Southern twang.

My throat was too dry to manage more than a whisper of my own name.

Then, as the instructor breezed into the classroom, he plopped right down beside me. The smell that came off him made my head cloudy. I wanted to press my nose into the leather of his jacket.

And then, because when it rained it poured, as we listened to the instructor outline what was to be expected of us in the class, Jasper gathered his hair up into a tail that spiked out at the top of his head, and put on a pair of thick, librarian glasses. He could have walked right out of my fantasies - because no one knew why those glasses were hot, but they sure as hell were.

I was so unbelievably fucked.

**~0~**

After class Rose, Jasper and I headed out to lunch. I was quiet, and I knew Rose noticed because I was  _never_ quiet. But she took some sort of mercy on me because she didn't call attention to it.

The conversation turned to plans for the evening, and Jasper revealed he had a date.

"You always have a date," Rosalie scoffed.

"That's the pot calling the kettle black, isn't it?" he retorted easily, raising one eyebrow at her.

"See, the difference between you and I is that while yes, I do go on many dates, they rarely end up in my bed. And even if they do, it's not on that first evening," she shot back.

Jasper chuckled, adding yet another thing to my rapidly lengthening list of things-I-like-about-Jasper. There were going to be way more than 10 and that was just the first day I'd known him.

His man-whoring ways were on the much shorter list of Jasper's negative traits...but it was in big, capitalized, red letters.

"Ah, Rosy Red, I'm young. I am quite a fine specimen of all that is male," -Rosalie rolled her eyes, I tried not to nod my head in fervent agreement - "I'm smart and I'm safe. Why shouldn't I have fun? I'm not in any place to settle down, after all." For reasons I can't even begin to fathom, he elbowed me lightly. "Right, Alice?"

It was pathetic, but I was hypnotized by the fact that his beautiful, light gray eyes and the playful smile that tugged at his lips were directed at me. I would have agreed to first degree murder if it gained his favor. Alice had completely left the building at that point, leaving some empty-headed twit in her place.

That's was how I explained it to myself later anyway.

"Oh, yeah. I completely agree," I said, ignoring the way Rosalie's eyes shot death rays into the side of my head. "That's exactly how I am - a little fun, no complication."

Grinning, Jasper tapped my glass with his. "Amen, sister."

After lunch, Jasper walked us to Rosalie's car. Rose and I had to scamper off to work for some OT - because forty hours was apparently not enough for us. As soon as I was inside the car and his back was turned, I promptly slammed my head against the dash.

"Um, 'a little fun, no complication' - What the hell was that? And what the heck are you doing?"

I slammed my head against the dash for the third time as I answered. "I have no fucking idea, and I'm trying to fix it."

**~0~**

That semester, as could be expected, brought me heaven and hell.

Easily the most attractive female in the class, Rosalie never wanted for a dance partner. All of the guys vied for a turn with her - even the ones that had been dragged there by their own girls.

Everyone except for Jasper. For some reason he always partnered up with me unless the teacher forced us to find a different partner. He said it was because I was the best dancer, and therefore the easiest on his poor, abused toes. That might have been true - it was a beginners' class and I was one of the very few with any dance experience at all.

Swing quickly became my favorite class, and the hours I spent step-step-triple-stepping in his arms were perfect. Despite the fact that I'd been a blithering moron the first day we met, I seemed to regain my footing after that - somewhat. Inside I was just as ridiculously bewitched, but after that first day I was much more articulate. Jasper was easy to talk to. He was what my grandma Brandon would have called an old soul - like me. We never lacked for things to talk about.

There was just so much about him that I enjoyed. We could sit at the mall, watching people go by, and where Rosalie would nitpick the imperfections she saw - that woman's hat was ugly, that man looked like a pedophile - Jasper would find only the beauty. He would make up stories about the couples that strolled hand in hand and whisper them into my ear.

But despite the way I continued to moon over him, Jasper never gave any indication that he might return my feelings.

I tried to make it obvious in the only way I could figure how. Whenever the subject came up, I would create a lie about this or that guy I was seeing - casually of course. I thought he would be attracted to casual. I thought he would see that he could have me that way if he wanted me, because at that point I was willing to take what I could get.

Yeah, it was probably pathetic, but I hear that's a common theme where first infatuations were concerned. I don't think I knew what to do with myself, and lord knows Rosalie was at a loss.

As it always did, time continued. June brought the end of swing class, and the end of my excuse to touch him. During our final, when the music had ended and we stopped dancing, I thought, for one moment, that Jasper looked almost as sad as I felt. But then he let go of me and flashed that grin with only one half of his face. "I bet we aced that!"

"Yeah," I mumbled, turning away from him quickly.

It was definitely pathetic that I felt like my heart was breaking.

**~0~**

**December 2009**

The office Christmas party found me, not surprisingly, sans date. I was okay with that. Rosalie was bringing Jasper, and I had decided to bring my lifelong best friend Emmett. I knew he'd love the open bar and the chocolate fondue fountain. Besides, I'd been trying to get Emmett and Rose in the same room for months.

On the way to the party, only half listening to Emmett drone on about how some chick named Bella Swan had completely knocked his stuffed-shirt, little brother Edward on his ass, I was pep talking myself into not pining for Jasper. I was through with that. Plenty of fish in the sea. Sure, I hadn't found one yet but so what?

Rose was always telling me, "If you can't get under 'em, get over 'em."

Of course, I should have known that fate would throw a curve ball my way.

Rosalie and Jasper were already there when we arrived. I was so busy admiring the way Jasper's dark vest and white shirt combo looked on his muscular frame - which, just to clarify, admiring was so not the same as pining - that I almost didn't hear Emmett's sudden whimper. But then it didn't matter because he stopped walking altogether.

Yeah... big man Emmett Cullen whimpered and stopped short. At what? None other than the vision that was Rosalie Hale at that moment. "Al. Please. Tell me that goddess is single," he pleaded with me, all the while not taking his eyes off Rose.

I smirked to myself knowing this would be to easy. "That's Rosalie, Emmett," I whispered back.

That got him to finally tear his eyes off her. " _That_  is Rosalie? The same Rosalie you're always yabbering about?"

"The very same. The one I've tried to hook you up with a thousand times, and you resisted."

"Alice. Never listen to me again."

I swear if I hadn't been hanging on his arm, Emmett would have sprinted over to Rosalie's side. It took all of two minutes for them to all but forget that Jasper and I even existed.

"Oh, they're gone," Jasper chuckled in my ear. I couldn't help the delightful shivers that went down my spine at his closeness, and the way his breath was hot on my skin.

His amused expression changed then, and he cocked his head as if listening to something. Then he turned to me, tugging on my arm lightly. "Alice. Let's dance."

I was so shocked by this totally random request that I almost didn't hear the music in the background. "Dance?" I echoed, reeking of intelligence.

He stood, holding out a hand to me. "Dance with me, Alice," he said again, his voice too soft to be a command, but not quite asking either. And even though I knew it was going to devastate my no pining rule, I took his hand and let him lead me to the dance floor.

"Let's show them how it's done," he said, and I swear his eyes were twinkling, they were that full of merriment.

Before I knew what was happening, he'd lead us into a swing dance. All I Want For Christmas Is You is not a song that's easy to swing to, but we had always been good. Even though it had been six months since I'd danced with Jasper, it was as if my body remembered how to move with him.

I thought it only happened in the movies that other couples shuffled to the side to make room for the show-offs, but that's exactly what happened. It only took a few seconds for us to have the whole floor to ourselves, going through advanced steps as we basket whipped and sugar pushed our way through the song.

I know I must have looked like a clown; I was grinning so hard my face ached. But I was giddy, and I was flying. Jasper looked every bit as pleased as I was – like he was seconds away from giggling like a little boy.

At the end of the song he pulled me back to him. I closed my eyes, ignoring the smattering of applause from my co-workers as I soaked in the way it felt when he held me this close. Any second and he would let go.

But he didn't.

Instead, he put his arm around my waist, leading me into a regular dance at the much slower pace of the next song. I opened my eyes to find him smiling down at me. He looked so happy that my heart clenched. Neither of us spoke, which was fine because we were both breathless. From the dancing.

"I really missed dancing with you," I admitted before I knew I was speaking.

He laughed quietly. "I did too."

We moved with the music, so close that our fronts brushed. I wondered what it felt like to him. To me, tiny thrills and shivers crawled across my skin. My face was so hot I knew I must have been bright red. I hoped he would chalk it up to the exertion of our first dance.

The way he was looking at me was almost unnerving. He was staring. I had never really slow danced with anyone. Maybe it was only polite to keep eye contact.

He sighed, his face suddenly becoming serious. "You're so beautiful, Alice."

I was pretty sure I might have gone insane at that point. "What?"

He sighed again, and brushed his thumb against my chin. "You're beautiful. I'm sorry I never told you before. I always think it."

Now I was sure I was dead. I must have slipped during our first dance and bonked myself right in the noggin. This couldn't be real.

"How much have you had to drink?" It was embarrassing how much my voice was shaking when I spoke, but I couldn't help it. My heart was pounding so hard and fast in my chest it was almost painful.

His smile was lazy and glorious as it spread across his face, and for a second, I saw tenderness in his eyes that took the breath right out of my body. "Not a drop," he said, and then he ducked his head down. I gasped wildly because I'd been holding my breath for too long. He was so close I could taste the air he breathed out on my tongue. "Do you want to see for yourself?"

He didn't give me a chance to answer before he was suddenly kissing me.

Holy hell.

And it was perfect. It was more than I ever could have imagined. Everything, and everyone, faded away. There was nothing but his lips on mine and his arms pulling me up against his body.

It was perfect when he whispered in my ear how he wanted me – he'd always wanted me.

It was perfect how we barely made it in the door of my apartment before we were unbuttoning and unzipping, clothes falling to the floor.

He took me for the first time, hard and needy and completely feral, against the wall. It was the hottest thing I'd ever done in my life. I would never forget the feel of the hard wall against my back, and Jasper all around me, and inside of me. We were both noisy about it. I was downright wanton. The things I said to him would have made me die of embarrassment if he wasn't growling something similar as he nibbled on my earlobe.

He took me the second time in my bed. It was soft, and slow, but the intensity was almost too much to withstand. Neither of us spoke. He threaded his fingers through mine above my head, kissing me with reverence as we moved together. He didn't drop his gaze, and the feeling in me built to an orgasm so powerful I felt weakened by it. When he came, his whole body pressed into mine, his face buried in my hair, and he said, "I love you," in a strangled whisper just before he lost himself completely.

I was so happy, I felt the tears stream out of the corners of my eyes as he gathered me up in his arms, and we fell asleep together.

Perfect.

But of course, perfection was the first sign that something was amiss. No one's life was perfect. Nothing was perfect.

So I shouldn't have been surprised when the next evening, giddy and in love, I went to his and Rosalie's apartment with a small, festively gift-wrapped token of my affection, and found him kissing a gorgeous brunette good-bye. Despite the cold, December evening, he was shirtless.

His smile – for her – fell as soon as he saw me. He called my name, and ran after me, but I had a head start…and shoes on.

**~0~**

**December 2010**

I told Emmett it wasn't going to be a problem. I was proud of how nonchalant I sounded even though I was falling apart inside.

In all honesty, I was a little pissed at myself for feeling so upset. It had been a year. A year in which I told myself over and over how stupid I was for thinking it was more than just a fling. Sure, he'd said he loved me, but a man loved anything he was that deep inside. He probably wasn't even aware he'd said it. I knew how he was; he wasn't going to change for me. Free and easy and uncomplicated – that was his game.

In January I was a wreck. I only barely managed to get my work done. Jasper tried to see me, but I refused to answer the door. He nearly got into a fistfight with Emmett, he was so persistent about it. But finally, he left me alone.

February was only slightly better.

In March, Rosalie said she was sick of my moping. She dragged me out to be pampered as she called it. And while I'd never seen the point of salons – really, what was wrong with Supercuts? – and pedicures and manicures, she insisted on all of it. My hair was layered, my nails 'done' and my feet massaged. Then she moved on to clothes. I'd never paid much attention to clothes before, and I only barely listened as Rosalie talked about cuts and fits.

But the compliments I received the next day were revealing. I found myself walking straighter, and smiling in spite of myself. This new-found confidence was addicting, and through the year Rosalie taught me a lot about how to dress to flatter my figure.

Clothes were a lot more fun after that.

I hung out a lot with Emmett and Rose. I got to know Edward and his awesome girlfriend Bella a lot better that year. Bella was patient enough to let me use her as a human dummy when I was trying to figure out how to make hair behave. As it turned out, I was utterly hopeless so I ended up chopping it down into a spiky, sexy cut.

In September I finally accepted a date with an attractive man named Peter Damon. It escaped no one's notice that he was similar to Jasper. He had the same build and the same longish, scruffy hair, though his was sandy where Jasper's was golden. He had a wide smile that sometimes made my heartache, but unlike Jasper he was sweet and attentive.

And he was dynamite in bed, which was always a plus.

By the time Emmett and Rosalie threw a Christmas party at their new place, bringing together a lot of people who would be at their wedding in January, I felt better about seeing Jasper again.

Oh, who was I kidding? I was a nervous wreck inside. But I thought I hid it well.

Part of me thought Rosalie and Emmett only threw the party as a test. If I could get through it without wanting to murder Jasper, then their wedding would be safe. It seemed like the kind of thing Rose would do.

If I thought I was over him, I was sorely mistaken. I heard him before I saw him, and his deep voice seemed to resonate beneath my skin even though he was across a crowded room. Then he looked up from his conversation with a petite blond I didn't recognize. Our eyes met, and I suddenly couldn't breathe.

"Babe…are you okay?" Peter's voice distracted me enough that I could breathe again.

"Fine," I said, though probably not nearly as convincingly as I hoped.

"Okay, well…you're squeezing my arm off," he said gently.

I made myself breathe deep and released Peter's arm from my death grip. Because I was an idiot, I looked back at Jasper. He seemed almost hopeful, raising one hand in greeting.

I glared at him and turned away quickly. It should have felt good, but it felt more like dying.

From that point on, I tried to forget he was there. Whenever he would step into my vision I would find myself paying more close attention to whomever was speaking. The sight of him suddenly made the Ducks versus Kings debate fascinating. I laughed too loud, and was more openly affectionate than I'm sure Peter was used to.

I wasn't fooling anyone, I knew that. I could see it in the tightness of their eyes. They all looked like they were waiting for something to happen – even Edward and Bella, who hadn't been present for my breakdown almost a year before. But they played along, ignoring the elephant in the room and trying to interact with me naturally.

None of it made me feel better. I was always aware of him, no matter how hard I tried.

So when I was getting a drink, alone for once in the evening, I shouldn't have been surprised when a chill went down my spine. I suddenly felt enveloped. My skin felt super-heated. I knew he was standing behind me. I refused to turn around.

"Alice." His voice was so soft. I wanted so much to turn, but I thought it would break me. He sighed and his breath was hot on my neck which, conversely, made me shiver. For the first time I cursed my stupid, short haircut. "Please let me talk to you."

How pathetic was I that I almost said yes?

"What is there to say?" I asked through gritted teeth, and I turned, forgetting my drink entirely as I walked away without looking back.

Where the hell was Peter? I'd been so busy trying  _not_ to notice Jasper that I realized I hadn't seen Peter in a while. A quick look around revealed that he was no where in two rooms the party was centralized to. Suddenly desperate to leave, I went looking for him.

I found him in the hallway…kissing the little blond that Jasper had been talking to earlier.

When it rained, it poured, remember?

Ignoring his stuttered explanation about mistletoe – I was an idiot, but not an imbecile, mistletoe kisses didn't involve shoving your tongue down the other person's throat - turned heel, and for the second time in as many years, found myself running out of Rosalie's home. This time though, I stopped when I was outside, sitting heavily on the bumper of someone's truck.

Bella was the one who came after me. That was good. She was quiet. I needed quiet because I was confused. She rubbed my shoulders silently while I tried to figure out what I was feeling. I felt like I should be crying, but I wasn't.

"Why do I feel nothing?" I asked Bella helplessly.

"It's because you don't love him," another voice answered. My entire body went rigid, and my eyes closed. I felt him move closer, his warmth reaching me even in the cold air. "You don't care about him," he said softly.

My eyes fluttered open.

He was looking at me with such a sad expression – contrite, and tired somehow.

"Alice?" Bella's voice was quiet beside me. She was asking if I was okay. She was asking if I wanted her to send Jasper away. I turned to her only long enough to nod, resigned.

I was tired of fighting. And he was right. I knew I didn't love Peter.

"I'll be close if you need me," Bella said, and then she left us alone.

I hardly recognized my voice when I spoke. "Why would I be with him if I didn't love him?" I asked, my cool, confident mask giving its last stand. I already knew I didn't love Peter.

He smiled without humor. "It's called a rebound, doll."

I didn't answer. I shivered, but this time because it was fucking cold outside, and my jacket was in the coat room. I wondered if Peter was even trying to come after me, imaging that Emmett or Edward was threatening him as we spoke. Then I admitted to myself that I didn't even care about that.

Jasper took my silence as some sort of sign, and he took one step toward me, then another… slow like I was some cat about to bolt. I half expected him to hold out his hand and cluck his tongue. Instead, when he was close enough, he took off his jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders.

Leather. And boy.

"Thank you," I said, my voice sounding curiously dead to my own ears.

He said nothing. He sat beside me, giving me as much space as the bumper would allow, and waited. For long minutes, neither of us spoke. "Alice, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he blurted suddenly, his voice making me start after the minutes of silence.

I chuffed. "What do you have to be sorry about? I knew you were about the fun – no complication." I didn't even realize I was crying until my voice cracked. "I was the idiot who thought it was about love."

"But that's just it," he said. "It was."

I felt suddenly breathless…and furious. "Don't… don't."

"No. Alice," he interrupted. He stood and got in front of me, kneeling at my feet so I had to look at him. His eyes were wide, an odd sort of desperation I'd never seen in them. "You never gave me the chance to explain. I knew from the moment I met you that I could never be satisfied with casual. Not with you. That's why I never tried."

"What? Why?" I was so confused by his words.

"What was I supposed to think? You said you were just like me. It was all I could do not to give in to the urge when I knew I could have you – even if it was just for one night. But I knew it was a bad idea. As it was, it was literally painful to let you go every time we danced.

"But that night I was so tired of fighting. You were so beautiful, and in my arms. And for once I just couldn't let you go," his voice was pleading…pleading with me to believe him.

My head was spinning. I opened my mouth to argue, to tell him not to lie to me, but I was confused.

And hopeful despite myself.

His voice was slightly calmer, and so, so sorry, when he continued. "When I woke up, with you in my arms, I thought I had died and gone to heaven. But then reality set in. I was so in love with you, but I didn't think that was what you wanted. I couldn't stop thinking about you. The only reason I slept with Maria so quickly was because I needed a distraction."

My heart was twisting, remembering only too clearly what it felt like to see him kiss her. Now she had a name, and I almost wish she didn't. I put my hands over my eyes, trying to stop crying but only managing to cry harder.

His hands were on my cheeks then. "Alice, I can't tell you how much I regret it. I'm so sorry. I never would have hurt you on purpose. I swear I didn't know."

Over and over again he said he was sorry. I could feel his sorrow and his regret like a physical entity between us, but I wasn't sure I could believe it.

But I didn't resist it when he pulled me upright and into his arms. He was warm, and I needed him to hold me. I leaned against him.

"Alice," he murmured against my ear. "Dance with me. Please."

I pulled back from him slightly, looking at him with cautious eyes.

"Please," he said again.

Some part of me was screaming that he could break me, really break me, if I let this continue, but I was a fool, after all, and I nodded minutely.

He put his hands at my waist and moved us to whatever music was in his head, not in a swing dance, but in a slow, rhythmic circle. I wasn't looking at him, staring at his chest instead.

Wordlessly, he moved his hand to my chin, tilting my head up. When my eyes finally met his I was surprised to see they were red, like he'd been crying a little too or at least near to it. His thumb brushed over my lips and I sighed against his skin.

If he kissed me now I would be completely lost. As it was, I was holding onto myself with just a string. Walking away from him was already going to kill me, but if he kissed me, it would be a long, slow, torturous death.

"Jasper… I can't do it again," I whispered.

"I love you," was all he replied.

It was amazing how those words made my heart grow, even as it was threatening to break.

"Don't lie to me."

"I love you," he said again. His face was closer to mine. I was breathing him in, just like the first time. Already, his scent was in my head. My thoughts were starting to blur around the edges, and I was completely drowning out the part of me who wanted to think this was a horrible idea.

"I love you," he repeated, though I hadn't said anything. I whimpered when his lips touched mine, and as I melted against him, my fate was sealed. I was his.

**~Fin~**

**A/N : Love you Kimmy**

**Thanks to Twilightmundi cuz I was a mess this chapter. LOL.**


	4. josieswan BJ, BE, BC

**Title: In the Shadow of Ursa Major's Shadow**  
 **Pairing: It's crack fic - your guess is as good as mine.**  
 **Rating: M**  
 **Recipient: josieswan**  
 **What you should read of theirs: If this doesn't convince you to read In the Shadow of Ursa Major, go read An Unexpected Lady. It's C/B (::shudders::) in canon. Very well written, kind of adorable - if you can take Bella ending up (legitimately) with Carlisle instead of Edward. Which I can't.**  
 **Prompt: Better if I explain at the end.**  
 **Songs: Frontier Psychology - The Avalanches, Berzerker – Olaf, You Were Meant For Me - Jewel**  
 **Dear Friend: Oh Josie. Josie. Josie. My writing has greatly improved since I met you. Who else would patiently explain everything from commas to colons with the use of sparkle peens? You make me smile. You keep me in proper grammar. I have the love.**

**~0~**

**Warning: This is crack fic! Do not attempt to read with a sane mind.**

**~0~**

A long time ago in In Real Life land -

Well, okay, it was April First, 2010.

Wait. Really? Really? April FIRST? Who starts a fic on April Fool's day. I mean, that automatically sets expectations - and with this set up, boy howdy. I bet there were people who were just waiting for the punch line.

Ahem.

So, in In Real Life Land, on April First, 2010, the goodly Josie Swan (which, I'll have you know, is not her real name - harrumph ) did post a tale loftily named "In the Shadow of Ursa Major". If you've seen Legends of the Fall, you get the set up. There are three brothers: Jasper, Edward and Emmett. I mean - Carlisle. Carlisle is the youngest brother.

Their father is Charlie, by the way. In the matter of Bella Swan... Charlie Cullen (gag) … is... NOT the father. But all this is beside the point.

Yeah - you see now why it would have made more sense if you got to the end of the first chapter and saw a big APRIL FOOLS!

But, that's not how the story goes. Turns out, it's rather a serious tale.

By the way, I'm not going to talk in first person the whole time - that would be bad writing. I'm just trying to summarize the works of the venerable Josie Swan. It's easier this way. Just trust me.

Anyway. So three brothers - a la Legends of the Fall. Carlisle, the youngest, brings home a bride named... Bella. Sorry, I have trouble imagining Carlisle having sex with anyone. In my head, he's taken a vow of chastity. He might be a eunuch. I don't want to hear about it any other way, even if he's with Esme. Any children he fathers in any story is the result of divine intervention. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

Unfortunately, that's not how Josie sees it.

So, anyway. Carlisle and Bella get married and get it on (lalalallalalal I DIDN'T WRITE THAT lalalalalala). Bella gets knocked up. Carlisle trots off to war. I can't really tell you if it was because he was scared of sticking around and being a daddy - I will confess I haven't read this (did you not see my rant about Carlisle being a eunuch?). I'm gonna guess it was more about country and duty and all that jazz, but either way you look at it, Carlisle walked off. In a uniform.

Yeah, even I'll admit that's a little hot.

Right, where were we? Besides picturing Peter Facinelli in World War I gear? Anyway, eventually, Carlisle dies, even though there's no body - cuz that won't come back to haunt anyone, will it? Bella is understandably distressed. She loses the baby. Losing a baby and a husband is not good times. Obviously, Josie is a cruel, cruel lady.

But I'm pretty sure I've put these characters through hell, so who am I to talk?

At some point, she fucks Jasper. It was probably because he was hot and his hair was long like Brad Pitt playing Tristan. Good lord, Jackson with long hair just does things for me. Honestly, Jackson with any length hair does things for me, but I suppose that is well beside the point. The point is - they had a roll in the hay. At least one. If I were her, I would have gone for several because - why not? Girlfriend was single. Plus she was trying to get over the whole loss of baby, loss of husband thing. This was back in the days time. It's not like she could just throw herself into a job. Her job was to make with the babies and keep the home fires burning until her baby daddy returned.

So -because why stop at two fuckhot brothers when you can go for a perfect triple - Bella eventually gets with Edward. Halle-fucking-lujah, things start to make sense to me! It's not a casual fuck like with Jasper. Bella marries Edward. They try to make with the babies but that's not happening because Josie Swan don't do canon - Carlisle is the fertile one, Edward is apparently shooting blanks.

Yeah, I'm going to bet  _that_ doesn't come in handy either.

So, that's where we pick up in the story. Carlisle is dead as far as we know. Jasper and Bella fucked at some point but that was just sex. Edward and Bella are happily married and devoted to each other (as it should be), although they are sans spawn.

Just so you know, everything that precedes is - essentially - how Josie's story goes. Everything that proceeds is a result of my twisted, twisted psyche. I blame Josie - because seriously, the warping of all things canon … my brain does not compute. I think she's driven me mad.

**~0~**

In the time of World War I, around the last place Carlisle Cullen was seen (coincidentally), there sat a man called Bob. He was sitting on a nondescript bed in a nondescript room staring at himself in the mirror. His face was descript. One might descript it as fuckhawt, or gorgeous if you want to be more eloquent about it. He was young, he was blond, and he was handsomer than any movie star he'd ever seen. But that's not why he was staring at himself. He wasn't vain – at least, he didn't think he was vain.

The problem with Bob was that he didn't know much about himself except what he could see. He had no memory of his life before a few months ago – when he woke up in an English hospital. The doctor that was helping him called him "Bub," but Bob thought he was saying Bob. So, Bob took the name because it was as good as any. He preferred it to 'soldier' or 'dude-whose-brain-is-broke'.

So, while he tried to figure himself out, Bob started working at the hospital he'd awaken in. Look, being a male nurse didn't make Bob gay, alright? It was as good a way as any to earn his keep. God, get off his back! Bob thought he might be the honorable sort. His eyes – who someone, somewhere told him were like cornflower (though what cornflower was he couldn't remember) – seemed to reflect earnestness.

Bob spent as much time as possible tending the sick, and doing disgusting things like being barfed on and changing bedpans. He wondered if maybe this honorable shtick wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Maybe in his previous life he'd been a thief. There probably wasn't any poop involved in that.

When he wasn't occupied with all that, Bob spent a lot of time staring in the mirror. As previously mentioned, he wasn't vain. He was just waiting for the day when it wouldn't be a stranger who stared back at him.

Two or three years passed in this fashion. He kept finding this mysterious, white powder on the mirror - but no clues as to his real identity. Then, one day, when Bob was having his mirror time – which was not the same as his… mini-Bob time – the following suddenly flashed through his mind:

P. Sherman, 42 Wallaby Way, Sydney.

But that sounded fishy to Bob, and he decided to ignore it. A few weeks later the name of a city popped into his head. Glasgow.

Well, that was exciting! Glasgow wasn't far from where he was right then. Bob made plans to leave his glorious job as a pooped and peed upon male nurse and left for Glasgow before the month was out.

When he got there, though, nothing seemed familiar. Perplexed and downtrodden, Bob stared in another mirror. His mirror-self looked irritated.

_Not Glasgow, England, you moron. God you're dumb. Do you see why I don't talk to you? Glasgow, Montana!_

Well, that wasn't as easy a journey, now was it?

**~0~**

**Sometime later, on a ranch outside of Glasgow, Montana**

Isabella Marie Swan Cullen Cullen was a very satisfied woman. Despite the fact that they had been unable to conceive a child, she and her husband, Edward, had been very diligent in trying.

"I think we need to try it on the table," she said decisively. "Perhaps the elevation will help."

Edward propped himself up on his elbows. They were lying on their bed. Up until that moment, Edward had been tracing lazy circles on her bare stomach with the pads of his fingers. Because really – it didn't take a lot of concentration to trace circles. One could be lazy about it. If he were being serious and studious about his tracing he ran the risk of bruising his bride's tender skin. Edward didn't like bruising Bella. Unless she was on one of her 'conceiving babies is easier when the sex is rougher, pound it all the way into me, oh yeah, right there, Edwarrrrrrrrdddddddd' kicks. Then he didn't mind at all.

"Bella, we've already tried the table. Many," he kissed her, "many," he kissed her again, "times." The boy had moves. He definitely had skill. He was Edward fucking Cullen after all. Represent.

"I think," Bella began, wrapping her arms around his neck, "that we need to try one more time." She grinned against his lips, luxuriating in his kisses. "We need a good amount of empirical data before we can reach a resolute conclusion."

"Oh, darling," Edward groaned (hey, this was back in-the-day time, alright). "I love it when you talk science to me."

He rolled onto his back, bringing her with him. For a while there was no sound but their lips moving together... and the cow was making some sort of ruckus outside their window. What? It's a ranch. There are animals. They weren't in some sound proof den, get over it.

There wasn't even sound proofing back in that day.

Was there?

In any event, the two humans were making out in relative quiet. "Bella, you know that you can only get pregnant at certain times during your cycle, right?" he asked as he kissed her. It was a good thing that guys didn't read fanfiction because they would have been throwing things at their monitors at that point. What the hell? Was he trying to stop the flow of sex? Who does that kind of thing?

Edward does that kind of thing.

"I do know that. I think you need all the practice you can get," she said, grinning spritely - which was like an imp except for smaller and more feminine, but just as bratty.

"I need practice?" Edward arched an eyebrow.

"You do. Our love for each other is supposed to overflow and create a child. Obviously, you're not loving me right."

He smacked her ass, rolling them again since so she was the one on her back. Unfortunately, since they'd rolled several times, this roll spilled them right to the floor. Bella yelped as Edward landed right on top of her. They wrestled with the sheets, trying to right themselves. Finally, they climbed back on the bed, Edward hovering over Bella. He would have been pressing up against her except that she was still a little breathless from him landing on her a few minutes before. "How do you figure it's me who needs practice?"

Bella didn't answer outwardly. Inwardly, her best sarcastic voice was having a field day.

_Your little brother didn't seem to have a problem with it._  
 _Your swimmers seem to have drowned._  
 _I know I can get pregnant - maybe I'm just a natural. Some people just need to try a little harder._

Her internal monologue was a bit of a bitch.

It should be emphasized here that Bella loved Edward very muchly. Her internal monologue just got a little exasperated. Really - could he not just be a normal male and give in to any excuse to sex it up?

Since he wasn't pinning her down, Bella rolled out from underneath him. "Well, if you don't want to practice, I have things to do. Busy ranch and all that," she said brusquely, pulling on her robe.

Edward reached out and caught her around the waist, pulling her back to him. "Let Jasper and Alice take care of the ranch."

What the hell was Edward doing on the ranch, anyway? If this story was anything like Legends of the Fall, he and Bella should be living in the city. He should be on the road to being a politician instead of doing things like roping cattle and mending fences.

Or whatever one actually did on a ranch.

Then again, if he was following the original 'script', Bella wouldn't even miss Carlisle - which was, to Edward's chagrin, not the case (despite the fact he'd fucked her so hard she occasionally forgot her name, Bella still remembered his little brother fondly (it should be noted that Edward also remembered his little brother fondly (it's just that who would want their wife to be thinking about their brother, especially in bed?))) - and she would still be desperately in love with Jasper. Then, when he finally knocked her up, she would lose his kid and eventually kill herself because she couldn't have Jasper.

No, he'd take life on the ranch and working with cow droppings to all that.

"Jasper and Alice are busy  _practicing_ ," Bella said.

Edward blinked, having forgotten what they were talking about. "Practicing what?"

She looked at him like he'd grown a third head.

Edward glanced in the mirror. It was, in fact, only a third ear. He popped it back in his head.

"Thanks," Bella said, regaining her train of thought. "Seriously, keep up with the conversation. Jasper and Alice can't tend to the farm because they're having sex."

"If they're having sex...and we're having sex...who is running the ranch?" Edward asked.

"I don't know. What are Emmett and Rosalie doing in this fic?"

Edward was aghast. "You mean no one is manning the farm?"

"Ranch."

"I prefer Catalina dressing myself."

"What?"

"What's on second."

Bella glared at Edward.

"Look," Edward said, pinching the bridge of his nose, "I have to get out of bed now. Apparently, I have a ranch to run."

"What about your husbandly duties?" Bella pouted because she liked sex. A lot. Remember, she had no baby to take care of and this was back-in-the-day.

"It's my husbandly duty to provide for you," Edward replied, pulling on some pants. He paused. "What do I do first? I don't have the first clue how to run a ranch."

"Well, you could start by cleaning out the barn - there's this white, powdery substance all over it..."

**~0~**

By the time Bob made it to Glasgow (Montana), the truth about his identity had sunk into him like a sponge. Not the truth. Him. He was a sponge. Which isn't to say he held dirt, and grime or was all together disease-full, simply that he absorbed things. Such as the truth. Which was the substitute for all the grime and disease.

The truth was that Bob was, in actuality, Carlisle Cullen. Son of Charlie Sw... Cullen. Brother of Edward and Jasper Cullen. Husband to Bella Cullen.

There were a lot of Cullens to be had.

They lived on a ranch outside of Glasgow (Montana) which is where he headed. It would be great. He would see his wife - whom he was sure he loved (look, he remembered his identity, but not  _everything._ You think it would all come rushing back like a cracked dam? (the water would rush back, not the dam)) - and he would quite possibly get some. It had been a while.

Before he knew it, he was at the door to the ranch. Strange, it was awfully quiet. Weren't people supposed to be working? Anyway, too excited to care about all that, Carlisle found the spare key under the welcome mat, threw open the door and proclaimed, "Bella! My darling wife! I have traveled long and been through so much to get b-"

"Would you hold on a second!" Bella sounded a lot more irritated than pleased. That's when Carlisle realized that she was naked. And her legs were spread. Astraddle another person. That other person was also naked and sitting on his (Carlisle's) favorite couch. Naked. Judging from the tuft of bronze hair that peeked out over Bella's shoulder, it was quite possibly his older brother.

Or, you know, someone else with bronze hair. After all, Edward had to have gotten it from somewhere. Maybe it was a third cousin twice removed.

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Bella continued, oblivious to his pondering. She began to mutter under her breath, her pert ass bounced on the possibly-Edward-possibly-other-bronze-haired-guy's cock. "Jesus, people these days...so fucking rude. A girl cannot get her freak on." She smacked the guy beneath her on the shoulder. "Hey, you...did I tell you stop thrusting?"

Carlisle watched, astounded, as his wife fucked another man. Part of it was pleasure, because oh my god Bella had a marvelous ass that he'd either forgotten or she'd toned in the years he'd been away. Of course, the other part of him was horrified. Why in god's name was his wife fucking his brother.

Or, you know, it didn't have to be Edward. It could have been -

"Oh, , I looooovveeee yooooouuu," Bella cried out in orgasm.

Or, it could be Edward.

Edward had this to say during his own orgasm, "Unnnggh."

The lovers leaned against each other, breathing deeply for a second. Then Bella, her back still to Carlisle, reached over and grabbed her discarded dress. She pulled it on and dismounted. "Okay, now how can I help... oh, Carlisle. Hi! Wow, it's been a while!"

Carlisle blinked.

Bella blinked.

Edward yawned - just to be different.

"Wait a minute..." Bella had the sneaking suspicion that she was supposed to be noticing something. She pointed at Carlisle. "New hat?"

"No. Well. Yes but..."

"No, don't tell me," Bella interrupted. "I'll get it." She put her finger under her chin and tapped it, considering. "New suit?"

Carlisle sighed.

"New-"

"I was dead!" he bellowed in a totally un-Carlisle-like fashion. Then again, it is entirely un-Carlisle-like to have married Bella in the first place, now wasn't it?

"That was so going to be my next guess," Bella said, rolling her eyes. She stepped over a pile of white powder and walked up to Carlisle. She tapped him on the shoulder. She frowned. She tapped him harder. She looked perplexed. She shoved him.

"What the fuck?" Carlisle protested.

"Aren't ghosts supposed to be less substantial?" Bella asked.

"And have cleaner vocabulary?" Edward added, frowning distastefully.

"I'm alive," Carlisle deadpanned. "Fuck," he added, just to piss Edward off.

"Oh!" Bella said, her hands going up to her mouth. She looked back and forth from one husband to another. "Well... this is a pickle."

They were interrupted then by the door opening. Jasper popped his head in. "Hey Edward... oh. Carlisle. Man! What is  _up_ , my brother?" he grabbed Carlisle's hand and shook it vigorously, then did one of those complicated secret handshakes guys were so fond of. He didn't seem to notice that Carlisle didn't move his hand.

"Well," Carlisle said calmly (which was a lot more Carlisle-esque if you will), "my wife is fucking my brother."

Jasper looked a little embarrassed. He rubbed the back of his neck. In embarrassment. Also because he had a bug bite back there. "Yeah, dude. About that. Look. I always told ya that Bella was as fine as they come. When I gave you that whole 'I recommend fucking her' speech?"

"That was Brad Pitt. Not you," Carlisle said through clenched teeth.

"Yeah, well, anyway. We were both grieving your passing and-"

"I WAS TALKING ABOUT EDWARD," Carlisle bellowed. Wait, he already bellowed. Uh. He yawped. Yeah. That's what he did.

Jasper looked confused. "Well, of course they were fucking. She's his wife."

"She's  _my_ wife," Carlisle... proclaimed loudly. He thwacked himself in the chest. Like a gorilla. "I'm not dead. I didn't divorce her. I had her first. My. Wife."

"Right...I'm just gonna go back to fucking Alice like we're two little rabbits in heat... nice seeing you again. CAIO," Jasper went back out the door, muttering something about how Carlisle was always horrible at sharing his toys.

Carlisle looked at Bella. She smiled wanly. "What?"

"Both of them?" he asked dryly.

Bella handed him a glass of water. "I have needs."

"Okay," Edward said, deciding that it was time to step in. "Here's the crux, Carlisle. I'm ecstatic to have you back, little bro. Really. However, Bella is mine. Oh, I know, I know, first dibs and all that, but finders keepers. Ya know? So, let's recap. I love you. Glad you're back. Let's have a BBQ... hands off my wife or I'll kill you. Cool?" He held his hand out and grinned his most charming grin.

Carlisle stared and considered punching his brother in the face. Then he remembered that he had decided he was a pacifist. Then he remembered that Bob was the pacifist. He was Carlisle Cullen. He punched his brother in the face. He felt better.

His hand hurt like a bitch though.

**~0~**

**Sometime, Volterra, Italy**

Aro Volturi was bored. He was also a vampire. So we're clear on that.

This was not a good thing. Shit happened when Aro was bored. The whole immortal children thing? Yeah, that all happened because Aro felt petulant about the fact that Disneyland was in Anaheim, CA. Like, if you were a sparkly motherfucker, you couldn't exactly wander into Southern California. So he had this idea that he would replicate the It's A Small World ride with real children. Except that real children wouldn't stand in one place (Slippery little things. They squirmed when he drank them too). So he was all - hmm, what can stand in one place for as long as I want? Oh, I know! Vampire children. Yeah - that didn't turn out so well. Turns out vampire children behave like normal children except they have razor sharp teeth and super strength and speed.

And they don't need to nap.

Not even after they snacked on a child whose blood was hopped up on sugar.

By the way, it would be good if you didn't think too hard about timelines. Just go with the flow.

Anyway, the point was Aro + boredom = shit happens. The guard didn't like having to clean up after Aro's brand of shit. It was, they found, best to distract him. The last time he had been bored they were lucky. Edward Cullen wandered in, intent on killing himself. That whole debacle kept Aro occupied for quite a while.

"Yo, D," Felix called. D was what he called Demetri when they didn't have to be all austere and shit in front of guests.

"What's up Felix the vamp. The wonderful, wonderful vamp?" Demetri asked.

Felix sighed. He counted to ten. Aro had not been pleased when he tore Demetri into eight or ten pieces the last time he'd called him that. "We need to distract Aro."

"How do you propose we do that, brah?"

Demetri had been watching too much television.

Felix sighed again. "I don't know. That's why I'm asking you."

"Hmm," Demetri considered. Then he brightened. "I know. We can fuck with the newbie and distract Aro at the same time!"

Demetri cheerfully trotted off until he found the new recruit, Kurt. Kurt had the ability to warp reality. He'd been an author in his former life. His last name had started with a V. Yeah. So Demetri and Felix went up to him and explained their problem.

"Well," Kurt said, "I was looking through all the alternate universes and came across this story. You remember the Cullens you told me of?"

"Right," Felix replied, waving his hand somewhat impatiently.

"Basically, someone, somewhere had the idea to pour them into a pot and kind of mix them all up. Anyway. Sounds right up Aro's alley. Carlisle was married to Bella."

"You mean Edward?" Demetri interrupted.

Kurt looked annoyed. "Alternate. Universe. Different. Universe." He glared at them. "Anyway. Carlisle and Bella were married. Carlisle died at war-"

"How did he die at war? Did he stand still and let a bomb drop on him?" Felix asked, incredulous. These Cullens were their own brand of idiot.

Kurt legit face-palmed. "Oye vey. Let me explain..."

Seven hours and one splitting, vampire strength headache later, Kurt had managed to make Felix and Demetri grasp the concept of alternate universe, all human stories. The three of them went and presented the story to their master with the intention that he could go play in that universe for a while. He could pretend to be Carlisle - back from the dead.

"Fabulous," said Aro many hours later when they'd finally explained everything fully. "Who's going to make me a Carlisle suit?"

The other vampire looked at each other. They had forgotten about that part. How were they going to masquerade Aro as Carlisle?

All of the guard was given the task of making this Carlisle suit. It was done. It was quite hot. But when Aro got into it he discovered a problem.

"There's no definition in the crotch of this suit."

The guard all looked at Demetri who had been in charge of the crotch as he was gay (really? Watch the movies. His movements are very feminine). He shrugged. "I thought he was a eunuch."

It was a valid assumption. In the time Carlisle had spent with them, he had not gotten his freak on with the very willing, very hot, very flexible vampire chicks. He had also been immune to Demetri's considerable charm. What other assumption was there to make?

With a sigh, Demetri gathered up the Carlisle suit and went back to work. He dusted off the white powder that seemed to be covering everything and stared at the Carlisle suit's crotch. "Well endowed," he decided.

Like an emu.

**~0~**

Kurt made a slight mistake. As a result, when Aro knocked on the door to the ranch, he was a little surprised when Carlisle opened the door.

"You're supposed to be dead."

"Reports of my death were somewhat exaggerated," Carlisle said.

It should be noted that he wasn't weirded out by the fact that he was facing himself. Remember, he'd talked to his stranger, mirror self for years. It didn't occur to him that this version of his mirror self was three dimensional.

Oh, by the way. Aro was totally human at this point. In a Carlisle suit.

Bella and Edward came to the door then. They looked between the two Carlisles. "Who's your friend, Carlisle?" Bella asked real Carlisle.

"I'm Carlisle," said Aro. "This is obviously an imposer."

"Imposter?" Edward supplied helpfully.

"Yes, that," Aro said. Then he thought about it. "Well, I suppose he is an imposer as well. Imposing. On my life. Which I want back."

"Yeah, look," Bella said, speaking slowly as if she were speaking to someone very dumb. Not unlike an Aro in a Carlisle suit. "I can see your ridiculous ponytail sticking out from under that blond wig you're wearing."

Aro considered this. "Evil twin?" he asked hopefully.

"Afraid not," Edward said. "I had the misfortune of wandering into the room as my mother gave birth to my brother -"

"Wait, you're the younger brother?" Aro asked incredulously.

"I know, right?" Edward shook his head. "Anyway. There was a lot of blood, guts and gore … and his ugly ass," Edward pointed to Carlisle, "but there was no second baby."

Aro scowled. "You already have two husbands. What's one more when you think about it?" he asked Bella. "Plus, I come baring gifts - which is more than I can say for these two nincompoops."

"Hey, I spent all my money trying to get back to my wife!" Carlisle protested. "I would have thought I was gift enough."

"My wife," Edward corrected. The brothers scowled at each other.

Bella, meanwhile, was examining Aro's gift. It was packed in brown paper. A little powder came out the edges of it. "What's this?" she asked.

**~0~**

Edward and both Carlisles sat at the table with Bella. They were all trying to outdo one another for her affection.

"Bella," Edward began, taking her hand in his. He stared deeply into her eyes. His green eyes were intense. His blue eyes were soulful. His golden eyes were dazzling. He settled for his green eyes and stared. "I love you with all of my heart."

"You know," Bella said, thinking hard, "a heart's not very big, organ-wise. I mean, I do have not one, but two other guys vying for my attention. Maybe you want to give me something more?" she prompted.

Edward blinked. "I love you to the depth of my ... lung?"

"Only one?"

"I'll love you with both lungs," Carlisle said.

"How about the small intestine? There's miles of space in there," Aro chimed in.

"I'll see your bet and raise you my left foot," Jasper said, sitting at the table - having appeared out of nowhere.

Everyone stared at him.

"What?" Jasper asked, clueless. "I like to gamble. What are we betting on anyway?"

Just then, Alice came in, making a cameo appearance. She linked her arm through Jasper and started to pull him away. She looked at Bella. "Mine, fuck off," she said, and then dragged Jasper to the back of the house so she could mount him properly.

**~0~  
**

Edward eventually got Bella alone. "Look," he said with a sigh. "Am I dead?"

"At this point? You could be," Bella said bluntly.

He considered this. "Okay, well you're going to have to take my word for it that I'm not. And I'm not gay, right?"

"You don't seem to be but then again there is a severe lack of cock that isn't related to you on this ranch," Bella said.

Edward banged his head against the wall. "Again, you're going to have to trust me here. I'm not dead, and I'm not gay. Now, I know the author. If we are both alive and neither of us is gay, we end up together. That's just the way the stars align."

"It's that simple?" Bella asked.

He took her hand. He kissed her. "It's that simple. You were meant for me. And I was meant for you."

"That's probably copywrited you know."

Edward found other things to do with Bella's mouth then. No, not that. Well…that later. But right then, he only kissed her. And she knew. She knew he was right.

They belonged together.

Like peas and carrots.

And Justin Bieber CDs and the trash can.

She just didn't know how to tell the man in a Carlisle suit that she couldn't be with him.

As it turned out, she didn't have to. Kurt had stepped briefly across the alternate universes and had switched Aro's Carlisle suit for an Esme suit. Because the author also believed in HEA's for all her characters.

**~Fin~**

**A/N: So…the prompt was… Aro in a Carlisle suit. This all came about during a conversation Josie and I had many moons ago.**

**This is not beta'ed because no one should have to beta crack fic. If there were any errors, assume it was done intentionally to make you laugh. If you didn't laugh, assume it's just that you didn't get the joke.**

**I love you Josie.**

**Points if you can identify the line that came almost directly from Twilight.**

**  
**


	5. Barburella BJ

**Title: The Hand You're Dealt**  
 **Pairing: J/B**  
 **Rating: M**  
 **Recipient:** **Barburella**  
 **What you should read of theirs: Nothing! She doesn't write.**  
 **Prompt: Picture prompt.**

**Dear Friend: You have no idea how essential pre-readers are to an author's survival. Opening up gdocs to find your comments and suggestions is often what makes for a writing mood. Thank you for your humor and your patience with my impatience!**

**~0~**

Natchez, Mississippi, 1800

It was Alice's demeanor that first tipped Bella off that something was amiss.

Isabella Swan had known Alice Brandon since almost before she could remember. She was the eldest daughter of Esme Brandon - the Swans' cook and head of household. Though Alice was five years younger than she, the two had always been friends. Alice had very recently entered official employment in the Swan Household, becoming a personal maid for Bella when she'd turned twelve the previous winter.

Typically, Alice would while away the morning chatting Bella's ear off about the latest gossip or the weather or the prospective suitors that came to call. Sometimes it was all Bella could do to get the raven haired girl to stop talking. That day, however, she was strangely quiet. She sat on the bed, unwinding the plait that Bella slept in. When her hair was all down and Alice picked up the brush, Bella could no longer stand the silence. "Is there something wrong?"

"Of course not," Alice replied, but her voice wavered.

Bella spun to face her friend. "Alice...are you crying?"

"No," Alice said, wiping tears from her eyes.

"Please," Bella entreated, putting her hands on her friend's arms, "tell me what's wrong."

For a moment Alice just stared, her big, black eyes glassy with unshed tears. Then she threw her arms around Bella and hugged her tightly. "Master Charles is sending you away," she sobbed.

Through her tears, Alice managed to tell what she had overheard earlier that morning. Charles and Renee, Bella's parents, had been arguing in their room. Too curious for her own good, Alice had crept close to their door. She'd heard that Charles had been out on the riverboats, playing poker with the travelers. It seemed that he had been talking of his family, and his lovely, 17- year-old daughter. Charles had gotten in over his head. The player to whom he'd lost a great deal offered a compromise. In exchange for the debt, Charles would give his daughter in marriage.

Charles had agreed.

A sick sense of horror filled Bella's heart, chilling her entire body. Her mind felt thick, like it wasn't working correctly. Surely Alice had heard wrong. She stumbled to her feet and down the stairs, her heart beating in time with the mantra in her head.  _It's not true, it's not true, it's not true._

She found her father and mother in the kitchen. Esme was at the stove, cooking breakfast. One look at Renee and Esme's red-rimmed eyes and Bella knew.

It was true.

~0~

"I thought you might be pleased," Charles said, increasingly befuddled by how obviously upset his daughter was.

Bella looked up from where she'd laid her head on her mother's breast. Her mother's arms tightened around her. "Why would she be pleased?" Renee asked, sounding as incredulous as Bella felt. "Her father is sending her away. Discarding her!"

Charles sighed. "You are being melodramatic," he grumbled to his wife wearily. "Bella, I thought you might enjoy the prospect of traveling. I know you are fond of your books. Would you not like a husband who would not expect you to stay in one place?"

For what it was worth, Bella had to admit that her father knew her well. The prospect of being a wife and mother did not appeal to her as much as it did to many of her friends. She eagerly read every book she could get her hands on, dreaming often of adventures and far away places she might never get to see. "But a stranger, Papa?" she said in a small voice.

"You would prefer someone you know? Perhaps Mr. Newton or Mr. Yorkie?" Charles challenged.

Bella frowned, turning under her mother's arm again. She knew her father was well aware of her feelings on the other suitors that had come to call. Mr. Newton was old. Mr. Yorkie was incredibly dull. There were others and, truth be told, none of them appealed to her as husbands.

"And he will not be a stranger," Charles continued. "He will be here by your birthday, and will stay through the winter. His name is-"

"I don't want to know his name," Bella said, suddenly furious. She was frustrated at her lot in life. That she had been born a woman had never been as maddening as it was just then. She thought of her friend, Jacob, and how he talked endlessly of what life had in store for him. His life was full of choices. She had no choice. She had always known, regardless of what she thought of her suitors, it would be her father's decision in the end.

Despair washed over her, and though her throat felt raw from all the pleading and arguing she'd done that morning, she couldn't help but try one more time. "Papa," she began, but her father's suddenly harsh stare cut her off.

"Enough, Isabella," he said flatly. "What's done is done. I've given him my word, and I intend to keep it. You will do as you're told."

Bella wanted to argue, but she knew it would do no good. She nodded once, not looking at either of her parents. "Yes, Papa." When she left the room without being dismissed, neither of them tried to stop her.

~0~

Morning bled into afternoon. Bella found herself comforting Alice more than the other way around. As her personal maid, Alice would go where Bella went. She would be barely 13 by the time the wedding occurred. Though she had fled Biloxi with her mother and baby sister when she was five, Alice couldn't remember not being in the Swans' home. She certainly didn't understand how she could be away from her mother and sister.

Bella had travelled before, to Georgia and New Orleans. In all honesty, the prospect of seeing more of the world was the one positive thing she could see in this situation.

But as afternoon became evening, the fear and anger were harder to ignore. Bella did not come down for dinner, and her parents did not insist. Her mother came in to bid her a good night, but Bella found that she couldn't speak. If she opened her mouth, she feared she would scream or sob. Luckily, Renee seemed to understand. She only petted her hair and held her tightly. "There, child. You still have a few more months," she whispered, her own voice heavy with sadness.

Alice was not as understanding about Bella's need for silence. She seemed to be making up for that morning and chattered continuously as she plaited Bella's hair. She spoke enough for both of them about meaningless things. Anything and everything but their fates.

Finally, Alice laid down in her trundle bed and went to sleep. Bella could not shut her mind off. Her heart was twisting endlessly and sleep seemed impossible. Finally, she rose, staring out her window. In the short distance she could see the Mississippi River.

For long minutes, Bella didn't act on the sudden pull she felt. The river had always been a calming force in her life. She'd spent countless days on its banks, simply watching the water tumble and making up stories in her head about the boats that crossed as she sat.

It was a clear, warm evening in early July. The moon was high, lighting the long lawn down to where it dwindled into forest. The house was quiet.

Decided, Bella grabbed her shawl, in case it was chillier than it looked, and made her way outside as quietly as possible. She was down at the banks in no time, watching the way the light from the riverboats played on the ever flowing water. After a few moments, she spread her shawl on the ground and sat.

There, she let her emotions overwhelm her. At first only a few, silent tears escaped, each one falling down her cheek slowly. Then, the more she dwelt on the uncertainty of her life, her tears came faster. Realizing her utter helplessness to change her fate, she put her hands over her eyes and sobbed.

Who knew how much time had passed when the noise of someone walking nearby startled her. Bella scrambled to her feet just as a figure entered her little clearing. It was obviously a man, though in the darkness she couldn't make out his features. He stopped short when he saw her, his eyes widening in surprise. Panicked, she pivoted, preparing to run.

"Wait!" he called.

She ducked behind a bush, but she did stop, turning and facing him.

"Don't leave," he entreated. His voice was gentle, but strong and smooth. His accent was just a little off, so she knew right away that while he was undoubtedly from the south, he was not from Mississippi. A traveler then, and she had been warned repeatedly not to trust someone she didn't know. She bit her lip, torn. Part of her was screaming that she should not be there. It was the middle of the night and she was hardly dressed. Still, there was something in his voice that calmed her fears instantly. "I heard someone crying. Was that you?" he asked quietly.

"It isn't proper for me to be here without a chaperon," Bella mumbled, both not wanting to answer and thinking out loud. She'd never been in the presence of a man alone before.

"We're only talking," he countered, and as he took a step into the moonlight that peeked through the trees, she could see he was smiling. "Come out from behind there. It's alright."

"I'm hardly dressed!" she protested.

His grin grew wider. In the darkness, she caught his eyes. Blue. And sparkling with amusement. "I'll bet you're wearing a nightdress that goes down to your ankles and a dressing gown that covers your arms. There will be perhaps three inches of skin between the end of your gown and your feet. Besides your face, I'd say you're covered plenty."

Bella blinked. She hadn't ever considered it that way. In the broad daylight she would have been wearing several more layers. But the simple cotton dress and gown she was wearing did, indeed, cover all of her except for a small patch of skin above the shoes she'd slipped on. Still, she hesitated. "We don't even know each other."

"Well, my name's Jasper Whitlock. That's a start, isn't it?"

When she didn't answer, Jasper held both his hands out in a peace making motion. Slowly, he reached one hand to his waist. He drew out what looked to be a small pistol. Bella gasped and started, but he quickly flipped it so he was holding the butt out to her. "Take this. Go ahead, take it. If I step out of line, you can shoot me." His grin got wider.

In spite of herself, Bella laughed. It seemed ridiculous at the same time it made perfect sense. Both disarmed and armed, she crept out from behind the bush and sat back on her shawl, his pistol on her lap. He put a comfortable amount of distance between them, leaning up against a nearby tree. "Now, why were you crying?"

Maybe it was because she had no one else to talk to. Maybe it was because he seemed so honestly interested and concerned. Either way, she let her walls down and told him of her plight.

"It's been my experience that the world doesn't make logical sense, and men even less so," Jasper mused. "Your father refuses to own slaves, preferring to pay servants because he finds the concept of owning human beings abhorrent. Yet he would gamble his daughter away like he might a piece of property."

"That's what women are to men, isn't it? Property? A possession who will be biddable and, if she is a worthwhile investment, soon produce an heir?" Bella asked, somewhat bitterly. She was not as naive to the world around her as her parents might have hoped.

Jasper's smile then was sad. "That is what women are to foolish men, yes."

Bella looked up, into his eyes, taken aback. Most men would be horrified at her, no more than a girl, speaking in such an unseemly way. She was used to her friends' nervous giggles as they dismissed her conversation for safer topics like suitors and fabric choices. Men were certainly not interested in a woman's opinion of politics, society or...anything. Though her father was demonstrably loving toward her mother, Bella had never seen them discuss anything more important than a change in the color of their curtains. "I think I should go home now. Esme is usually up before dawn. She would have my hide if she caught me out this late."

He stood, and walked the few steps to her, offering his hand to help her up. Slowly, she put her hand in his, rising at his gentle tug. Despite the fact that the evening had cooled considerably, she felt heat bloom in her cheeks. It was such an innocent touch, and yet she suddenly felt scandalous.

Up close she could see he was handsome.

Very. Very. Handsome.

The wide smile that spread across his face was different than it had been earlier that night. She could see him more clearly, and it seemed to have a physical affect on her body not unlike when her foot fell asleep, except in her blood, and rapidly spreading through her. "Thank you," she murmured, trying to step back.

He held onto her hand. "I'll be walking the bank again tomorrow night," he said softly. "If you would care to join me, we can continue our conversation."

Bella struggled to think clearly. "That is not proper."

"Challenge society's rules where you can, Bella," he smiled, tilting his head at her. "If you wish." He bent to retrieve his pistol and her shawl from the ground. The pistol disappeared back at his waist. The shawl he wrapped carefully around her shoulders. "But then, I am a man. It is easy for me to tell you to break rules which have never applied to me. I can go where I want, when I want without being considered improper." He dropped his hands at his sides and appeared thoughtful. "Either way. I will be here."

~0~

Bella had always been a dutiful daughter. She did what was asked and expected of her, even when she didn't agree.

Obviously, it hadn't done much to bring her happiness.

Resolute, the evening after she'd met Jasper, Bella crept out of the house again when everyone was in bed.

The happy, warm feeling that spread through her chest when she saw that he was leaning up against his tree, watching the river, was entirely unfamiliar to her. When he turned and smiled, her heart began to flutter faster than Alice was capable of speaking - which was saying something.

It was odd, but not uncomfortable.

They spent most of July's nights in the same fashion, sitting not quite side by side, looking out over the river. Bella learned a little about Jasper Whitlock. He was from Texas, but rarely made it back to the ranch he was born on. He would be 21 in November. Despite the fact that he was, he admitted, what proper ladies should consider a scoundrel, he knew how to behave in the presence of a lady. He was also well read and well educated. He believed that university was where you learned how to learn; it should not be the end of your education.

In return, he slowly coaxed all of her fears out into the open.

She told him about one of her best friends, Rosalie Hale. She was betrothed at 16 to a man of 23. Though she seemed nervous, she spoke excitedly of marriage. She wanted babies and a house of her own.

One night, Rosalie appeared at Bella's front door. Her dress was in tatters. She was sobbing. Her fiancé, Royce King, had taken her by force.

Privately, Royce was chastised for his impatience. Though Rosalie begged and begged, her parents would not break her engagement to the man. It was, after all, her wifely duty to please him. This duty was not supposed to be enjoyable for a woman.

The night before her wedding, Rosalie had run away with one of the field hands - Emmett McCarty, who had always had a soft spot in his heart for her.

Jasper was lying on his back, watching the stars through the cracks in the trees. "I would find it impossible to make love to a woman who was crying and pleading for me to stop," he said, his voice tight with anger. He breathed deeply. "But I know that many men do not share my... proclivities."

He rolled onto his side, looking at her intently. He reached out, taking her hand. His touch, this way, was becoming familiar. Bella was almost used to the way her body shivered slightly when his skin met hers. It was so odd, when she thought about it - the way she could speak to him so freely. Their society tried not acknowledge sex at all; children were told stories of the stork while pregnant women did their best to hide the physical evidence of a taboo act. Yet, with Jasper, she somehow felt comfortable with speaking her mind.

"You deserve more than that," he said, a fervent tone in his voice.

Bella smiled wanly and looked away, finding what little comfort she could in the way his hand closed around hers. "What I deserve and what I shall have may well be two different things," she murmured. "I know nothing of my husband. Not even his name. I do not know if he will be rough with me. I do not know if he will beat me." She scoffed lightly, and when she spoke again her voice was tight. "I am not as biddable as my father would like; I can only imagine how another man would perceive me. My father, for all his faults, dotes upon me. Oh, God." Realizing she was shaking, Bella put her free hand over her mouth, trying to calm her nerves.

"Shh, shh," Jasper soothed, getting to his knees. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. He hugged her, his hands warm on the exposed skin of her neck. "Do you ever think of running away?" he asked against her ear when the worst of the shaking had subsided. She felt safer in his arms. Comforted, and calmed.

"Yes," she admitted. "All the time. But I could not do that. Rosalie... her mother had her little brothers. My mother only has me. I could not do that to her."

Jasper pulled back slightly. His eyes were tender as he stroked her cheek. He was touching her face as if she were precious. "Not all men are like Royce King," he said softly.

"I know," she breathed, letting her eyes flutter closed. Some part of her that had been drilled about propriety set off warning bells in her head, but she dismissed them easily. She knew she could trust Jasper. He wouldn't hurt her. His fingers, as they traced the lines of her face, were gentle - as if he were trying to rewrite her memories of Rosalie's frightened, tear stained face with the possibility of caresses.

"Bella," he whispered as one hand cupped her cheek.

She opened her eyes to find that his face was much closer than she expected. His nearness was shocking, sending a physical jolt through her body. Nerves stirred in the pit of her belly, yet she could not bring herself to move. She did not want to move. She swayed, as if some invisible force actually wanted to push her closer to him.

The look in his eyes was completely foreign to her. All she knew was that it stole her breath and made her chest feel full to the point of aching. He tilted his head, and his lips brushed hers. It was the faintest of touches and yet Bella felt as though her blood burned under her skin. She had been kissed before. When they were thirteen, she and her friend Jacob had kissed just to see what all the fuss was about. Overrated, they'd both decided.

When Jasper pressed his lips to hers again, this time lingering, Bella quickly amended her previous assessment. She had no frame of reference for the euphoria she felt. Chocolate, a rare treat indeed, could not hold a candle to this. The happiness of Christmas mornings, with all the people she held dear gathered around her, was several levels below the feeling that engulfed her. Her breath came in tiny gasps as he kissed her again and again. They were pecks at first, no longer than a rooster plucking at the ground. He had one hand on her cheek, the other cupped around the back of her neck, stroking long fingers against the hair gathered there. It was so much sensation all at once.

His lips lingered then, and Bella melted against him. Her arms instinctively went around him, and her hands made fists, scrunching the silken fabric of the vest he wore. He was fond of vests. She'd noticed this.

It was hard to say who let go first, but when they parted, the noisy voices in the back of her head clamored. This was unseemly. This was outrageously inappropriate. She was betrothed to another. She was almost totally inexperienced.

Breathless, she stood. "I have to... I have to..." she stuttered. The heat rising in her cheeks made her skin clammy. She shook her head and ran. Before she got too far his voice stopped her.

"Will you come back? Tomorrow night?" he asked, not trying to close the distance between them.

Bella paused, knowing she should say no. This could go nowhere good. She should put a stop to it. "Yes," she whispered instead. Then she ran back to her house.

~0~

The month of August was very different from the month of July.

First, where in July her parents had said little about her change in sleeping habits - Bella went from being an early riser to sleeping in until almost midday - in August, they began to intrude. Charles demanded she be roused for breakfast. Her eyes would hardly stay open as Alice helped her dress and brushed out her hair. Over eggs that she hardly ate, Charles all but demand she cast off this 'ridiculous melancholy' and return to some semblance of normalcy.

Though her head was chaotic with all she wanted to scream at him, Bella merely muttered, "Yes, Papa," to her plate.

Her mother tried to talk to her. Renee had found herself in much the same situation when she was much younger than Bella. She only knew Charles a week before they were married. She'd almost died giving birth to Bella at the tender age of 16. It was the reason that Bella was an only child. She also knew that it was her mother's difficulties adjusting to married life at a young age that had kept Charles from choosing a husband for Bella sooner.

But above and beyond all of that, Charles was a loving husband. He was tender with Renee and spoke no ill of her, despite the fact that other men had more than once suggested he find a way to annul their marriage so he could find a wife who would bare him a son.

Of course, Bella knew that not all marriages were filled with terror. Another of her school friends, Angela, had been wooed by Benjamin Cheney. When he was away at Oxford, he had written Angela nearly every day. Many days, Angela would be wearing a blissful smile on her face, her cheeks pink after reading one of his letters. They'd married a year ago, and moved to England for the time being. Angela's last letter had reported she would give birth to their first child in the new year.

It was entirely within the realm of possibility that her husband would be kind. But there were no guarantees. The uncertainty and injustice of the situation kept Bella from being able to keep a firm grip on hope.

August also brought with it a visit from her friend Jacob, taking a break from his studies at Harvard. They sat on the porch, talking quietly, the elephant in the room ignored by both until Esme - chaperoning because their being alone together at 17 was much different from when they played together as children - went inside briefly to find a different color thread.

"Bella, I heard of your engagement," he began.

Automatically, her throat felt tight. "That has not been announced yet," she said shortly. She knew he would have heard because the gossip would have begun the moment her mother turned Eric Yorkie away when he came to call.

Jacob squeezed her hand. "I'm sorry, Bells," he said, using his childhood nickname for her. "If I had known your father would marry you off to a complete stranger, I would have asked for your hand myself."

Though she smiled at him, her heart aching because she desperately wished her arranged marriage could be undone, Bella felt a peculiar sense of relief. If she had not been betrothed so suddenly and without her consent, she would not have fled down to the river. She would not have met Jasper.

Oh, Jasper.

Throughout the month, despite how often she told herself she would not, Bella found herself kissing Jasper. He never pushed her, never asked for anything more or tried to take anything more than that. But their kisses had naturally progressed to light petting. His hands had traced her body, over her night clothes, everywhere except her most intimate parts. He had let her explore his body in the same way. She discovered so much about men that she'd never considered before: how their backs were broad and strong beneath her fingers, how a light sheen of stubble tickled pleasantly when Jasper brushed his chin against her cheek.

Even when they were not kissing, she would climb onto his lap, or sit curled against his side. She clung to this newfound intimacy without expectation, soaking it in because she knew she might not experience it again.

They didn't have as much time together. Not wanting her parents to catch on to what she was doing, Bella limited their contact to only a few times a week so she could get more sleep.

Though she tried, she could not muster a pleasant mood for her father.

~0~

As September loomed closer, Bella found herself more and more bitter about her circumstances. She still refused to hear anything about her fiancé, repeating to her father that it was meaningless until she could put a face to the name. In reality, she was doing her best to pretend that her life was not decided. She was putting off acknowledging her future husband's existence until her birthday.

Shortly before her birthday, Bella found herself facing the full body mirror in her mother's sitting room. She was wearing the dress she would wear to her birthday ball. By anyone's standards, it was lovely. The pale blue set off the darkness of her hair and eyes perfectly. She had never seen anything like it. Most girls, when presented with such a gorgeous gift, would have squealed and thrown their arms around their father's neck. Charles' look of crushed disappointment when she merely thanked him had not gone unnoticed.

"You have never looked so beautiful," Esme said softly. She was on her knees at Bella's feet, pinning the hem of the dress so she could make the necessary alterations.

Bella found she couldn't answer past the lump in her throat. This was too real. Doubtless, her father wanted her to be happy with a pretty dress, but he also wanted her future husband to be suitably impressed. Her heart began to beat painfully in her chest, and her eyes watered. She was terrified.

That night, as she tried to stop her useless tears, Bella wished she could go to Jasper. She wanted his arms around her, his voice strong and soft in her ear, telling her it would be all right. He couldn't make that promise, but he could make her hope. If Jasper could touch her gently, and enjoy her words as much as he enjoyed her physical company, then she could hope that someone else would too.

But what were the odds she would be that lucky twice?

A thought occurred to Bella, like a seed that took hold and grew too quickly before she could kill it. A plan began to form in her head - something she found she wanted with a desperation that made her shake.

She would need help.

When Alice had first come to live with the Swans, she had been too small to understand discretion. She had bluntly stated that she, her mother, and baby sister had 'run away from home' because 'Daddy hurted me.' Esme had shushed her, but ten-year-old Bella had been too curious. Esme gently explained that Alice's father had gotten out of hand when punishing the little girl. To make sure that didn't happen again, she had moved away, taking both of her girls with her.

Seven years later, Bella could fill in the blanks that she had missed when she was 10. It was likely that Esme's husband abused her, but, as many women of their day, she had probably held her tongue. But when he raised a hand to Alice, Esme had to make a decision. She could let her life become her daughters' fates, or she could do whatever she could to stop it. Under the law, a woman and her minor children were property of her husband. Her only choice was to run. By all indications, Esme had given up the comforts of wealth to become a servant just so her daughters would be safe.

Knowing this, Bella took the chance that Esme would help her.

~0~

That evening, Bella was a bundle of nerves as she made her way to the riverbank. It was unnatural, she thought, for a woman to do what she set out to do that night. She wondered if even Jasper would look on her with disgust.

But she was overcome with the need to exercise the last bit of control she had. No matter how many times she'd turned the matter over in her head, she could find no justice or sense in her being forced to marry. Anger had boiled in her bloodstream, making her want to lash out at her father for the first time in her life. She wanted to do something that would horrify him.

Mostly, though, she wanted what happened to her body to be her choice. When she was married, her body would be forfeit to her husband's whims and desires. For the time being, her will was still her own.

"You're trembling," Jasper said, cutting short their kiss. "Bella, what's wrong?"

She couldn't look at him, instead staring down at the buttons of his vest. She traced a single finger around and around one, not talking for long minutes. Then she told him what she wanted. She wanted him to be the one to take her maidenhead.

Jasper's breath came in a surprised shudder as she explained. "Bella," he said on a breath. He tried to tilt her face up but she refused to look at him. Her face was so hot that she couldn't feel the September evening chill in the air. She closed her eyes and waited for him to push her away.

He only held her closer. "You haven't thought this through," he murmured against her hair. "The ground will be too cold for comfort here-"

She cut him off, telling him of the rest of her plan. Esme had already agreed to take her into town the day before her birthday. Bella knew that the hotel Jasper was at temporarily was on the outskirts of town. It was unlikely that she would be seen, but either way her face would be well covered under her cloak. It would not be odd that a gentleman of Jasper's age would lead an unknown lady to his rented room. Society practiced hypocrisy as easily as they walked outside. A man was expected to have many undisclosed sexual encounters before he finally settled down. A woman was thought to be insane if she even thought about sex, let alone sex outside of the marital bedroom.

"And when your husband discovers you are not a virgin on your wedding night?" he asked quietly.

Bella quaked against him. "It is worth the risk to me, if you'll have me. I... I care for you, and you are so gentle with me. I trust you. I want that - one night with a man who is my choice. One night to know a tender touch."

"You have thought this through." His voice vibrated in his chest. Leaning as she was against him, she could hear the double timbre and it helped her breathe through the anxiety she felt. He rubbed her back in slow circles, breathing deeply. "Look at me," he requested.

Still more ashamed than she wanted to be, Bella tilted her head up. She opened her eyes slowly. His eyes, when she finally met them, eased the tight ball of nerves that had settled at the pit of her stomach. They were filled with such a deep affection that she could not doubt her actions. She wanted him. She would rather have him for one night than live without knowing his touch on her skin at all.

And if that made her insane, she was through with sanity.

Jasper ran the tips of his fingers under her eyes, down her nose, across her lips. He kissed her once, a soft, slow, serious type of kiss. "If you will have me, it would be my honor."

~0~

Finally, finally, they were in the safety of Jasper's room. It was not as large as the suites she had stayed in with her parents when they travelled, but it was large enough, and comfortable. She knew that while Jasper was wealthy, he preferred discretion to pageantry.

He stood in front of her, pushing the hood of her cloak away from her head, and then pulling it from her shoulders. She was shy as he looked on her. Bella's throat seemed too tight to speak until she saw him smile. "I've never seen your hair down before," he mused. "Nor have I seen you in the daylight." He ran the back of his hand down her cheek. "You are so beautiful."

Jasper offered her food, but Bella declined. She didn't think she could eat. She did, however, take the glass of wine he proffered. She didn't normally enjoy the heavy, slightly bitter taste of red wine, but it soothed her nerves somewhat, and loosened the tightness in her throat.

They sat on the bed, side by side at first. When Jasper cupped her cheek she tilted her head against his hand. "I don't know how to do this," she admitted in a whisper.

"I'll show you," he murmured back.

He kissed her first, soft and slow. They had all day after all. There was no need to rush, so he didn't. As her body relaxed against his, her lips returning his kisses and her arms winding around him, Jasper began to run his hands up and down her sides. She let out a tiny moan at the back of her throat, thrilling at his touch.

His hands were suddenly at the front of her cotton blouse, deft fingers undoing the first button. "Breathe," he said against her lips as he undid the second button. He pressed tiny kisses against her chin, waiting as she regulated her breathing again. "Are you all right?"

Bella nodded. "I am. I'm fine," she assured, though her voice was shaky. She ran trembling hands through his hair. She didn't know how to tell him about the emotions that were rolling through her. There was a want building in her core that she had never known existed. The last month, as he kissed and cuddled her, she had felt pleasure at his touch, but this was wholly different. This was baser - more animal than refined lady.

But at the same time she didn't want him to stop, there was no denying that she was completely out of her depth. Her body knew that it had never been touched this way. Her mind knew nothing but the basic mechanics of sex, and even that was a little fuzzy.

She knew that it hurt.

So as his hands continued to unbutton her blouse, her body shook harder. It was like a deep chill. "We can stop," he whispered.

Bella shook her head, resting against his shoulder. "I'm fine," she insisted, hating that her voice wavered. "Really."

Continuing to kiss her, Jasper slid the blouse off her shoulders. He unbuttoned her corset cover then. "You know," he said lightly, fingering the lace of the ties that held the stays of her corset together, "it occurs to me that women wear entirely too much clothing."

She laughed, the sound breathy. Then she gasped as he leaned in, peppering her collarbone with kisses and swirling his tongue along her skin. His long fingers unwound the tight strings of her corset, and she was able to breathe slightly better.

At least, until he pushed the fabric away, his mouth covering the pert little nipple that he'd exposed. Her fingers tightened in his hair, but if she hurt him, he didn't let on. Even as his lips and tongue moved over her, sucking lightly, his hands pushed the remaining fabric away. She was entirely topless in front of him, but the remarkable sensations that flowed through her as his tongue moved banished any lingering shame she might have felt. It took her long moments to realize that the tiny, whining sound was coming from the back of her throat. It was hard to form a coherent thought.

Jasper guided her body backward, laying her down on the soft fabric of the bed. He kissed up ward, tracing a line from her breasts to her throat, up to her chin and finally claiming her lips again. He hovered above her, his own face flushed from the heat between them. "Sweet, sweet girl," he whispered, his thumbs brushing over her nipples.

"I am not a girl," she protested automatically. "I am not a child."

He grinned at her. "You're right." He trailed one of his hands down from her shoulder to the tips of her fingers. His long fingers wrapped around her wrist, and he guided her hand between them, and then between his legs. "Do you feel this?" he asked, pressing her palm against the front of his trousers. Her breathing stuttered a little, feeling how hard he was. "You do this to me. Seeing you like this, and feeling you... this is what it does."

Hesitantly, she began to move her hand over him, feeling his length. A bizarre sense of fascination and pride filled her - that his body would grow hard for hers. And then the pleasure-filled little sighs he made as her hands explored him emboldened her. This time he gasped as she undid the button of his trousers and slid both them and the drawers he wore beneath down over his erection.

The hard warmth she took in her hands felt huge to her inexperienced fingers. Her heart began to beat hard again.

"Tell me again that you're sure," Jasper said. She could see it took some effort for him to keep still as her hands explored him.

Bella let out a slow, deep breath. "I'm sure."

He sat up slightly then, letting her watch as he shoved his trousers and drawers all the way off, and then sent his shirt into the pile after them. She thought his naked body was beautiful.

He tugged her to her feet then, and looked intently into her eyes as he undressed her. Skirt. Petticoat. Pantalets.

She laughed, the noise a nervous titter. "Too many clothes," she echoed his sentiment from before.

Jasper chuckled, kissing her nose. "No word of a lie."

He kissed her again, guiding her down onto the bed. There was something natural about the way her legs widened as she laid back, but she still started a little when she felt his hand touch her. Then, slowly, his finger was inside of her. Though she tensed, she knew in her heart that she trusted him, and she surrendered to the pleasure he brought her. It was all the more intense because she had never known a touch like this.

She stopped breathing altogether when he replaced his fingers with the hardness of his erection. His body covered hers then, though he still held himself aloft. "This will hurt. I'm sorry," he said earnestly, kissing her as if begging for her forgiveness.

Bella didn't respond. She only let her legs part further and wrapped her arms around his neck. She buried her head along his shoulder, breathing deep against his hot skin. As he began to rock slowly against her, pushing himself into her inch by inch, she bit into his skin lightly. It was an incredible mixture of pleasure and pain as he stretched her. Bearable though, especially because he surrounded her - his body over hers, and his breath hot against her hair.

When he pushed past her barrier she whimpered quietly against his shoulder. His words were nonsensical, but they soothed her quickly. She let his kisses drown out the pain, and let the tenseness ease away from her body. But it wasn't horrible, and when she looked into his shining eyes, she knew she would remember these moments for as long as she lived.

The next evening, Bella was entirely unprepared for the crushing weight of the despair that settled over her. It wasn't that she felt as if she were walking to her doom, though the histrionic side of her certainly might have chosen those words. It was the fear combined with a knee-weakening sense of loss that threatened to drown her where she stood.

Her body still ached from Jasper's touch the previous day. She still remembered his body moving over hers. Tonight she would be well and truly engaged. Tonight she would lose him forever.

She said hardly a word as Esme and Alice got her ready. Eventually, they stopped trying to make her smile. As the time drew nearer, Bella allowed herself to think of Jasper one more time. She thought of how he looked as he released inside her, and the way he rested on top of her, completely spent.

"Bella," he'd whispered in her ear. But then he paused, and sighed, seeming to think better of whatever he was about to say. She was glad.

_I love you too,_ she thought fervently, hoping somehow that he knew. She wiped away the last of her tears.

Then she shut away her heart.

**~0~**

Her smile was forced as she milled amongst the gathered guests. Bella hated parties. It mattered little to her that most everyone commented on how stunning she looked. The dress was perfect. Her hair was swept up into an ornate style high on her head. She looked like a princess.

She tried to feel nothing.

When her father appeared by her side, drawing her away, her throat went completely dry. Sound seemed to warp in her ears, and she did not hear her father's introduction. She found herself unable to look up, even when man's dress shoes appeared in front of her. Mechanically, she put her hand in the one her future husband offered.

He bowed, bringing her hand up to his lips, and Bella gasped.

His head raised and his eyes met hers. He smiled slowly, hopefully. "A pleasure to meet you, Miss Isabella."

Bella astounded everyone in the room by throwing her head back and laughing. It was a joyous, giddy sound. Relief made her head spin, and she might have swooned if his arm hadn't gone around her then. He steadied her, pulling her more close than was entirely appropriate in front of the gathered guests. She didn't care. "Jasper," she whispered, softly enough for only him to hear. "Oh, Jasper."

~0~

"I didn't think I was the marrying type until I met your father that night," Jasper said to her when they'd finally found a moment alone. "Most women I've met, they seem to be such empty headed creatures. I suppose I've never really understood.

"But then your father spoke of you, and you seemed so alive. Spirited, he said. When he bet more than he was able to pay, I spoke without thinking."

He frowned slightly. "Then I ran across you that next evening. I didn't know who you were, though I suppose I should have guessed. The things you said... well, again. I suppose I've never really thought about what it must be like to be a woman. I never thought about the fact that you had little to no choice in who you married. It was so unfair."

His grin then was somewhat sheepish. "I would like to say that the only reason I didn't go to your father right then and break the engagement was that I too was bound by my promises. But, the truth is... I was … enamored. You were brave, eloquent, and so beautiful. I wanted you to fall in love with me. I wanted you to choose to be with me."

Jasper got on his knees then, grasping her hands in his. "I swear, I promise that I did not intend to fool you. It was just that, the more time I spent with you, I didn't see how I could explain without you hating me. I liked that you were so honest with me. That's such a rarity, even among men. Everything I said...about the situation I admittedly put you in... was the truth. It is unjust."

He kissed her knuckles, and then looked into her eyes, his own eyes pleading and full of love for her. "If you cannot forgive my deception I will understand. I know that your father has given your hand, but I do want this to be your choice. Isabella Swan... if you will have me, I want to be your husband. Not your master, but your partner. Say you'll marry me, Bella. Not for any other reason than you want me."

Part of her hated that he had let her worry for these months, knowing all the time it was him she was betrothed to. All the time she feared her husband would beat her, or use her body roughly. He could have assuaged so many of her worries. But that part of her was small, and easily quieted. She was in love with him. She trusted him not to hurt her and further trusted that he would not treat her as though her thoughts were somehow worth less than his because she was only a woman.

She was lucky. So lucky. And she was in love.

"I do want you," she said, squeezing his hands. She tugged his hands, drawing him back to his feet as she stood. "I will marry you, Jasper Whitlock."

When he smiled at her then, his entire face was alight with a deep joy. His arms wound around her waist, and he kissed her hard and deep. He spun her around, laughing.

"Perhaps it's barbaric of me to say so," he murmured against her ear, "but that was, without a doubt, the best hand of poker I have ever played."

Bella chuckled, glowing and happy. "That, Mr. Whitlock, not even I can argue with."

**~Fin~**

**A/N: Okay, so THAT o/s got away from me. Lol. Love you, babe.**

**Thank you so much to TwilightMundi for beta'ing between Santa duty.**

**  
**


	6. Twanza EJ

**Title: The Ties That Bind**   
**Pairing: J/E**   
**Rating: M**   
**Recipient: Twanza**   
**What you should read of theirs: I must recommend Pressed for Time. It's brilliant. And E/B. Never Ending Math Equation is also beyond gorgeous and amazing.**   
**Prompt: - do NOT ask me how THIS story came out of looking at that beautiful hotel.**   
**Songs: Ugly - The Exies (Yes, again), Hurt - Nine Inch Nails, Sober - Tool**   
**Dear Friend: You can't imagine how happy I am that I found you. I love your humor. I love your music. I love your writing. I love you. Thank you for conversations that are never boring. In the words of Jackson Rathbone - I want to thank you for existing.**

**~0~**

"Maybe it would be good for you to get a change of scenery."

Emmett Cullen's voice was uncharacteristically sober as he spoke. Edward sighed, irritated at both his brother and himself. Week after week, Emmett insisted on visiting. Week after week, when Edward didn't laugh at his jokes or when he responded with barely more than a grunt of acknowledgement to his stories, Emmett's ever-present smile began to fade.

"Scenery isn't going to change what I am," Edward muttered. He could feel his hackles raise and hated it. His older brother hadn't said anything, and yet Edward couldn't help but feel defensive.

Emmett growled under his breath, a sound of pure frustration. "That's not what I meant. Why do you have to make everything about yo-" He cut himself off, taking a deep, steadying breath.

Bitterness crept down Edward's spine. Most of him hated what he was to his siblings – a trial that they felt obligated to deal with. They didn't understand. After all, they'd had the same childhood he did. They'd lost their parents just as surely as he had, and they were alright. Emmett was one of the most easy-going people you could ever hope to meet. Alice was full of a vivacious energy that couldn't be tapered. She savored life.

Where his siblings lived and thrived, Edward wallowed and sank. There was darkness to him that they couldn't grasp, and he couldn't explain even if he wanted to, which he most certainly didn't. Frankly, he didn't understand why they bothered. If he had a choice, he wouldn't have wanted to be around himself. His fits of manic depression – the insane highs and the devastating lows – had been a breeding ground of words and thoughts. He'd written them down. Some publisher thought they were worth publishing. Edward had plenty of money to support himself, and a book contract to give him a sense of purpose. He didn't need his siblings' duty-bound pity.

"I just mean that maybe a change of pace would inspire you. You're having trouble writing, right?" Emmett tried again.

Edward put down the iced tea he'd been drinking only to keep his hands busy. He rubbed a hand over tired eyes. "What makes you think that?"

Half of his brother's mouth crept up into a smile that he just couldn't keep down for long. The customary Cullen smirk. It always made Edward miss their father. Tentative, as if he was afraid that Edward was a feral animal that could bite at any moment, Emmett reached forward and grabbed his brother's hand. He held it up. "When you can't figure out what to type, you write in pen." Emmett laughed. "You write hard enough to get ink all over your hand. It's impressive."

Edward turned his hand back and forth as if seeing it for the first time. Splotches of ink indeed covered his right hand, dark black fading to smudged gray against his pasty, white skin. He smiled in spite of himself. "You're right," he admitted, his voice for once lacking the harsh edge.

He had neither patience nor an idea of what he was going to write. It was making him crabby.

But then, everything did.

Like now. The fact that he could see triumph in Emmett's eyes that sparked the bitter trickle again. Because his brother couldn't expect to simply interact with him like a normal person. No, every conversation was a battle to be won or lost when it came to talking to Edward. He knew this about himself. His mood swung again and he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to calm the irrational fit of temper that welled inside of him like a soda can that had been shaken and would explode the second the tab was popped.

It was ironic. He knew that Emmett and Alice – and anyone else who had the pleasure of interacting with him – thought he was entirely unreasonable. If only they knew how often he tempered his reactions.

~0~

Figuring where to send him was just the sort of project Alice thrived on. She came over with her laptop and a mountain of brochures that she'd ordered , she'd decided as she spoke to him - well, more to herself for all that he was paying attention. With people. Not far from home – his stipulation – and not lacking for creature comforts.

Alice arranged everything. Edward merely had to follow instructions. She took him to SEA-TAC. There was a driver to meet him at LAX – as if he'd get lost if he was allowed to wander Los Angeles alone. He supposed it gave him more time to muse. It seemed like everyone on the road was going nowhere really fucking fast. It amused him that they should live life at such a frantic pace, completely ignoring the ocean that bound them, beating out a steadier, constant rhythm. Making up for all the time lost when the streets and freeways were congested, he supposed.

Edward and the driver arrived at Shutters, a five star hotel on the beach in Santa Monica. Alice swore by it. Her company would send her there on business at least a few times a year. The staff was more than efficient. The decor was beach-cottage charming. His room was well equipped with a desk, a TV, and a pocket-sized balcony with a view of the ocean. There was also a king sized bed with an obnoxious amount of pillows.

Donning shorts and button down shirt, Edward began his exploration of the hotel. Eventually, he ended up on the sundeck. Only a wooden fence separated the deck from the sand. He sat on the lounge chair furthest away from the hotel and looked out toward the ocean.

Edward raised his thumb to block out some of the bigger ships on the horizon, but the gray pallor that settled over the skyline couldn't be ignored. He wanted to be one of those people who saw the good things - the golden orange, vivid purples, and lush yellows of the sky as the sun set. The waves and the water - as old as time was long. But no. He saw the pollution and the commercial vessels that were monoliths on the otherwise spotless sea.

Disgruntled, both with the impurity of the sky and his own irritation, Edward slunk down against the cushion of his lounge chair. He remembered a sign he'd read in the lobby about Shutters being modeled after the beach side getaways of the 1920's. He let his imagination take him. His mind's eye corrected the scene - like an old movie that has been painstakingly restored, frame by frame.

First he lightened the sky, removing the layer of grime and gray. He replaced the commercial vessels with the occasional schooner or personal yacht. Finally, amused with himself, he imagined the scanty bikinis, speedos and short shorts devolved into their earlier incarnations - long, almost full-body suits in solid or stripe colors.

He imagined two lovers in his world. They would meet at the sea shore, once every year or so. Their time would be measured. They would try to leave, but would be pulled back as surely as the moon pulled the waves onto the shore.

Edward decided that perhaps Emmett had been right about a change of scenery. There was much to be said about the warmth of California and the way the sunlight played upon the water. Water offered endless analogy and metaphor. He could build stories that the waves told him better here than in Seattle, where the wind and rain would have eventually turned him away.

Feeling slightly brighter about this spark of creativity, Edward turned from watching the natural splendor all around him to watching the people that clamored along the beach.

Breaking life down, one encountered hundreds of people a day if they even ventured outside their doors. A call to a customer support line gives a 1/20 chance of a fellow human being to interact with. The people who walked the closest - strangers passing on a sidewalk, co-workers that never bothered to get to know each other - often never affected each others life. Yet every person had a separate story. This was the kind of thought that led people to believe in a higher power. It was like thinking of infinity. When you thought about all the people each individual person was connected to in some form, really thought about the tiny touches and minute incidents that shaped a soul, the concept became too much to hold in the space of one limited, human brain,

If every person had a story, who decided it? If endless strands of string were to be tossed randomly, the result would be a pile of nothing. Skilled or not, it took hands to weave those strands together to make a shape. Life had shape. Whose hands shaped it? If each person was a strand in the most intricate blanket that was time and life, looking out at the people that crossed each other each day, who was responsible for winding together the pieces?

The first time Edward saw Jasper Whitlock, nothing spectacular happened. His eyes flitted across the sand and surf, assigning stories to the people they came across. Of Jasper, Edward only saw honey blond hair and a defined, curiously white back.

The blond man was sitting on the beach, facing away from Edward. The slump of his shoulders made Edward think of sadness: the loneliness you could hear in the waves when you sat by yourself in sand, as this man did. Edward imagined that he was a soldier, having survived a war to come home and find his sweetheart dead.

Married? Apathetic?

No, Edward decided. Dead.

As if he felt Edward's eyes upon him, the blond turned slightly, showing off a single tattoo on his right shoulder. An Ouroboros. Fascinated with symbolism, Edward knew the sign well. It was, in the man's case, a serpent eating it's own tale. The significance was a life of constant re-birth - recreating oneself on a continuous basis.

Obliging, Edward concocted another possible life for this stranger he thought he'd never meet.

~0~

The second time Edward saw Jasper was slightly more significant.

Two days of pampering from the hotel's spa and 2000 thread count cotton sheets had lulled him into a state of discontent that was far lesser than the utter frustration that had plagued him just a few days prior. Edward's state of being allowed for him to experience and even enjoy creature comforts or moments of levity. It was just his curse that he could not surrender to them completely. Always his thoughts would tangle, getting the better of him and drew him out of even the slightest corner of piece he'd found.

Even when his mind didn't grasp to the nearest irritant, there were always the ghosts of his past.

Particularly one.

_"What are you thinking?"_

_Edward was fifteen and laying in the grass with his best friend, Bella Swan, staring up at the sky. Bella was still a mystery to him, and he was an insufferable know-it-all. He craved the pieces of her, having learned from the loss of his parents that even the slightest talk was precious._

_"Souls get weary," she answered as if this should explain everything._

_"What?"_

_"That's what I was thinking. Souls get weary. Heads get full. Hearts get heavy."_

_Bella read a lot. Sometimes an expression would catch her the wrong way for the first time, and it would set her off wondering. Why? Why could souls get weary but not heads?_

_"Hearts can get full, I think. If you're lucky," Edward said, uncharacteristically glass half fullish._

Since those days, over a decade ago, Edward had learned that hearts could also get very empty.

And souls could be broken.

This was what he was pondering when he ran headlong into Jasper Whitlock.

The beach had faded away almost completely, leaving Edward tangled in his past and his own shoulder-bowing thoughts. He wasn't really seeing the other people that laughed, played and sunbathed all around him. He didn't see Jasper emerging from the surf, shaking out his shaggy blond hair as he wiped the salt water out of his eyes.

They collided and tangled, long limbs intertwining as they tumbled. Somehow, Edward's body slipped below the stranger's, and he fell on his back in the sand. The stranger toppled down right on top of him, his thigh colliding with Edward's groin as they crashed together. Edward let out a strangled cry before he could help it.

"Jeez," the stranger breathed in his ear a split second before he scrambled to his knees, relieving the pressure from Edward's abused cock. As soon as the other man's weight was gone, Edward curled in on himself, rolling slightly to the side as he tried to catch his breath.

When he was able to think past the pain, Edward first noticed that the stranger was kneeling beside him, patting his shoulder somewhat helplessly. This was not typical guy behavior, but somehow it wasn't uncomfortable either. He felt strangely at ease in the other man's presence, even forgoing the requisite embarrassment for the few whimpers that had escaped his lips before he'd tamed them to deep, steadying breaths.

"I'm sorry, man. Are you alright?"

Edward let his eyes open, taking in the face before him for the first time. Blue-gray eyes, tight expression, lips pursed - all showing concern and remorse. A day or so growth of beard showed on his otherwise smooth, almost childish face.

This boy was beautiful.

"I'm fine," Edward said, trying to uncurl himself. It didn't help that his voice came out as more of a wheeze. He managed to put aside the ache enough that he could get to his knees. "S'my fault."

They looked at each other then. Really looked.

What neither knew then was that their lives had been irrevocably changed. Whether it was fate or random happenstance mattered little. Mutual distraction had thrown the men together. When they looked each other in the eye there was an inexplicable familiarity; there was a depth and an ancient sadness - as if, though Edward's eyes were green and Jasper's cool gray, they were made with a matching design.

One second difference from either man and they would have passed each other by, never knowing what they would have missed.

As it was, their lives were, from that moment, tangled.

~0~

They lunched at Coast - the hotel's oceanfront restaurant - carefully revealing their first layer of skin. It was paper thin - like the brown film that covered an onion: when it was stripped away there as nothing to see but pure white and nothing to feel but glossy, smooth surface.

Over the next few days they carefully dug deeper. Jasper, Edward found, was pleasant to be around. He was the most relaxed person Edward had ever encountered. By proxy, Edward felt some of the tension he always carried drained in the other man's presence.

And that spark of recognition?

This was where smooth, flawless skin gave away to grainy, lush insides that pricked at the eyes. Souls recognized that ache that only those who had been through it could understand. Like Edward, Jasper knew what it was like to be weary with not just everything he was made of, but everything he was. He knew how blankets could feel like lead, and color could drain from life. He knew what it was like to cry for nothing and everything all at once. It was a pain without a physical source and a gauzy, mourning veil over what was once a vibrant, carefree life.

For Edward, the spiral began with the death of his parents. Emmett was 12, he was nine, Alice was eight. The officer who came to the door explained it, speaking slowly. He'd said that there was black ice on the road. Their father lost control of the car. The car spun out. All Edward could picture was the family's sleek, black Mercedes spinning around and around and around.

That was his life from then on. The world spun. Breaks squealed - an ear piercing noise that kept him from ever being able to relax. But unlike his parents who'd died quickly in the ensuing crash, Edward's soul-death took much longer. First there was the foster family who would only take two of the three siblings. Edward had insisted that Alice go with Emmett. Emmett was bigger. He could protect their little sister from what Edward didn't know, but was the first impact. From there it was his foster mother - Victoria, the manipulative, sadistic whore - and her son, James.

Edward didn't tell Jasper about Bella. She was a good force, a hopeful force. She was a reprieve - like that point in the movie where the car spun, and the protagonists would surely die, but instead the car stopped, teetering on the edge of oblivion. Bella was the force that could have - should have - stopped him from going over.

If only he hadn't been so damnably stupid.

Jasper's story was the same and different. His manipulative, sadistic whore parental figure came in the form of his stepmother, Maria. Maria was his father's replacement wife after Jasper's mother abandoned him and his sister, Lucy. Jasper had protected Lucy from Maria, though what that entailed, the blond man did not delve into.

Dark, fucked up pasts shared on a pristine beach as families enjoyed the sunshine.

"So how do you do it?" Edward asked, staring out at the swells of the waves. "How did you shake this off?"

Jasper didn't have to ask for clarification. He knew that Edward was talking about the lingering depression. Smokers' children suffered from asthma. Those poor souls raised by the dysfunctional were afflicted with the much more difficult to identify and understand diseases of the mind.

For a long time the other man didn't answer. Finally he chuffed, and when Edward looked up, he was grinning a wide, gorgeous grin. "Hakuna Matata," he offered with a shrug of his shoulders.

~0~

They'd lounged in one of the many rattan chairs, talking until daylight became twilight. At first, Edward was idly playing with Jasper's fingers. As they spoke of Edward's writing and Jasper's art, it was hard to remember who initiated the hand holding. Edward only knew that he looked down and stopped talking mid-sentence, realizing their fingers had entwined.

Jasper grinned at him, lazy and familiar, as if it were no surprise to him that their fingers had acted on the pull they both felt. He dipped in at the same time Edward did. The two men ended up bumping foreheads. They hissed and pulled back, then laughed - Edward somewhat nervously and Jasper in a low chuckle. "How graceful," Edward muttered.

"Naw," Jasper dismissed, one half of his mouth curling up in amusement. "We just need a little practice." He leaned in again. This time, Edward held still, letting Jasper come to him. They kissed slowly at first, testing compatibility and that all important spark. Deciding they definitely had it, Edward relaxed, his hands creeping up to Jasper's shoulders and pulling the other man closer.

They practiced kissing techniques for a good twenty minutes as twilight gave way to full on darkness - or as dark as California ever got, anyway. They watched the lights of the big ships out on the ocean for minutes before Jasper rumbled in Edward's ear, "You've shown me every inch of this place except your room." His voice was light and melodic, yet the words between the lines of his simple statement were heavy with intention. Edward felt a thrill rush through his body.

Wordlessly, he took Jasper's hand and lead him through the hotel. They found the elevator blissfully empty and gave the camera a show of their kissing mastery. It was only unfortunate that the elevator proved as efficient as the staff, and the ride was over quickly.

But other rides promised to be a little lengthier.

It wasn't until they were outside the door to his room that Edward realized he was shaking. Jasper's hands were at his hips, his chest against Edward's back and his lips nipping along his neck. Tremors ran through Edward's hands as he took the keycard from his pocket and tried to slide it into the slot.

It had been a while since he'd done this. He really had only known Jasper for a few days. Was he making a mistake? What if-

Jasper's right hand came up and covered his. "Don't over think it," he murmured, guiding Edward's motions. Together they dipped the keycard into the slit and pulled it out. The blond man pushed the door open. Then, he brought their joined hands to Edward's crotch and began rubbing in slow, slow circles as he walked them forward.

Edward dropped the keycard on the floor, lust and heat pushing the last of his insecurities away. He turned in Jasper's arms, eagerly seeking the other man's lips. The blond's hands went to his ass, kneading hard as Edward pushed him up against the closed door. Their hips moved over and against each other. fabric moving over hot, thickening skin.

Jasper pushed forward off the door suddenly, his hands gripping the front of Edward's shirt as he pushed and pulled him further into the room. They collided with the wall a time or two, grunts muffled against each other's mouths, before the blond man got them to where he wanted to be. Without taking his hands off Edward, Jasper kicked the desk chair out of the way. Blindly, he reached around Edward to grab the laptop, tossing it in the same direction of the chair. Normally, Edward would have been furious at the haphazard way the other man treated his precious equipment, but before he could even think about protesting, Jasper's hands were pushing his legs wider and cupping him through his shorts.

Moaning with a startled whine, Edward sat heavily on the edge of the desk, his legs suddenly too weak to hold him. Jasper chuckled, making quick work of the buttons of Edward's shirt so he could press wet kisses at his collarbone. Sighing, Edward leaned back, one hand flat on the desk and the other working into soft, blond hair.

Time seemed to blur around the edges as Jasper's hands and mouth moved over him. Edward hissed in pleasure when the other man grazed his nipples with his teeth. He whimpered when Jasper's fingers teased him through his shorts for what seemed like hours before he finally undid the button and helped him slide the offending material off.

When Jasper pushed him back slightly, Edward's hands scrambled for purchase, sending a pen holder full of pens skittering across the desk. The upper shelf of the desk bit slightly into Edward's back, but he couldn't care much about that when Jasper's lips had closed around him, the artist's tongue painting landscapes across his tip with long, sure strokes.

Jasper worked him quickly, taking inch by inch in his mouth as his fingers traced around the base of Edward's shaft down to the top of his balls. The length of time it had been since he had been intimate with anyone combined with Jasper's masterful use of mouth and hands brought Edward to the cusp of orgasm shamefully fast. He couldn't find it in him to care - such was the pleasure that rocked through him, making him buck his hips straight up off the desk.

Just as he was about to tumble headlong into what promised to be the best orgasm of his life, Jasper released him, straightening up and swallowing Edward's whine of protest with his mouth. "I want to fuck you," Jasper growled between hard, insistent kisses. "Tell me I can be inside you." Before Edward could even process noises into words, the other man was back between his legs.

"Yes. Yes. YES!" Edward cried out as his hips bucked against the blond's face. He leaned back on his elbows, shaky and completely exhausted from the intensity of his release, as Jasper dutifully lapped him clean.

"Good," Jasper said with a smirk as he straightened up. He guided Edward to his feet, wrapping an arm around his waist to support him. They kissed slowly, Jasper rubbing Edward's back under the shirt he wore open.

"That," Edward mumbled between pants and kisses, "was not playing by the rules."

"Fuck the rules," Jasper responded, moving his hands down to Edward's naked ass. He ran the pad of one finger over his slit.

"Fuck me," Edward responded, his hands releasing Jasper from the confines of his shorts as he spoke. "D'ya suppose the lobby would have lube at the front desk?" he asked, his voice husky and not entirely joking.

Jasper snickered. "Probably, but I have a better idea." He spun Edward around, placing the bronze-haired man's hands firmly on the desk and guiding his hips back so his ass jutted out. dropped to his knees then, wasting no time in showing off his tongue-twisting prowess yet again.

Edward held on to the edge of the desk with both hands, sighing and moaning and whispering. He seemed to have regained his mastery of words though his normal eloquence was still lost. "Oh, fuck. Just like that. Yes."

When Edward was good and wet - and painfully hard again - Jasper got to his feet. He shuffled briefly through the pockets of his discarded shorts, producing a condom before he took Edward's hand and pulled him over to the bed. The blond-haired man laid down on his back, still holding Edward's hand. Following his wordless orders, Edward straddled the other man, running his hands over his chest as Jasper worked the condom on.

Edward traced his finger round and round the Ouroboros as he lifted his hips, guiding himself down onto Jasper inch, by sweet inch.

The sex was surprisingly intimate. Neither man spoke, just enjoying the sensation of being combined. They kissed only occasionally as their hips moved together, panting their pleasure against each other's skin.

When they were both spent, Jasper made no move to leave and Edward said nothing to make him. The artist and the writer fell asleep together.

~0~

Was a dream really a dream when it was a memory?

There were some things different, of course. In his dream, Edward noticed Bella right away – when she walked in the door of their physical science class in seventh grade. In reality, he and James had been snickering together quietly.

"Oh, good," their teacher's voice interrupted whatever it was they'd been so involved in. "Mr. Cullen and Mr. Hunter have volunteered to take you on as a partner."

James was displeased. Edward was indifferent. In his dream, though, he was ecstatic.

Bella was, to the outside world, the antithesis of James and Edward. Where they were loud, she was quiet. Where they were disruptive, she was unobtrusive. They got into fights, Bella went out of her way to be kind to people.

And yet, Edward came to understand that Bella was, under the surface, a lot like them. Edward and James masked their pain with noise and trouble. Bella hid hers in the deepest part of here, affecting small smiles and shy eyes so that no one looked twice. They would eventually learn that her stepmother, Sue, was cold to her, and her twenty-year-old stepsister, Leah, was verbally and occasionally physically abusive.

The dream flashed forward in time. They were thirteen. They were fourteen. They were fifteen. Then they were sixteen and Edward woke up gasping because his dream had turned into a nightmare, replaying their last day together in stunning clarity. He couldn't stop it from happening. Even in his dreams he couldn't make the right choice.

"Why do you love me?" he asked over and over again in his dream. "I'm so fucked up."

She increased in age and beauty, but still never reached her seventeenth birthday. Not even in his dream. "Because I love you as is," the girl-woman always said, smiling.

Edward woke up - 25 years old and trembling. The anguish of his dream-memory surrounded him, swallowing him whole as he emerged into consciousness. He cried out once before his hand came to his mouth and he gripped tightly, as if he could shove all the horror and wretched grief back inside of him. He felt tears on his cheek.

Minutes passed while his head swam, dizzy from the guilt that crashed into him on the heels of grief. His fault. His fault. His fault.

Slowly, the vice grip around his lungs and heart loosened enough that he could think again. Edward became more aware of his surroundings – of the comfortable, California King sized bed he was sitting on, and of the rhythmic breathing of the other person in the room.

Wiping away his tears, Edward shifted so he could look at his bed mate.

Staring at Jasper's peaceful face, Edward began to feel calmer. The residual darkness lifted slightly and his full head allowed him to push back painful memories of Bella so he could remember the brighter memories of the previous evening.

In sleep he looked like a very young boy, his light covering of stubble all that betrayed his true age. His lips were pursed in sleep - pale and lovely and entirely too kissable. He was on his side, facing Edward, one hand under his cheek and the other resting on the bed, palm up. Lightly - so that he could feign innocence if Jasper woke at his gentle touch - Edward trailed the pads of his fingers up and down each of the other man's. He traced Jasper's palm and then the inside of his wrist and then-

Edward gripped Jasper's arm, yanking it toward him in astonishment. The blond-haired man came awake with a startled cry. "The fuck?"

"What the fuck is this?" Edward demanded, thrusting Jasper's arm back at him.

There, near the inside of his elbow, were unmistakable track marks.

Suddenly, so much made sense. Jasper's lazy attitude. The way he lost his train of thought. How he never seemed to be awake before one in the afternoon. Edward had spent enough time around drug addicts that he should have recognized the signs that were right in front of him.

Jasper rolled over and away from Edward, standing and searching for his clothes as the defensive yelling began. It was the same script practiced by drug abusers and their loved ones for ages. It wasn't a problem. What the fuck did Edward know? Who the fuck did he think he was? Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.

Until hotel management was knocking on their door. "I apologize," Edward said shortly. "Mr. Whitlock was just leaving."

Before he let the other man go, Edward grabbed Jasper's phone from the nightstand. He punched his number into it and saved. "Jasper. I swear. I promise I will help you. Just call me when you're ready. Please."

Jasper scoffed, yanking the phone away from Edward. "Fuck off," he said, shoving him to the side as he walked out the door.

When Jasper was gone and the door to his room closed, the silence, to Edward, was louder than the hollering. It took him minutes to realize he was shaking. Even more time went by before he realized he was gripping the handle of the door with all his might. He let go, letting himself slide down the wall as helplessness and sorrow engulfed him.

Edward knew how easily it could have been him in Jasper's place. He'd never reached heroin but he probably would have, eventually, as he'd started down the road when he was ridiculously young. He was thirteen when James introduced him to pot. Fourteen when James got a hold of mushrooms. By sixteen they were both fond of ecstasy.

Bella had never approved. James always tried to cajole her into trying any of the drugs they used recreationally. "My body is a temple," she would say sarcastically, rolling her eyes at James. Occasionally, Bella would drink, but that was the extent of her substance abuse.

Until three days before her seventeenth birthday.

Again, Edward should have recognized the signs. Bella was handsier than usual. She kept giggling and touching his face, but Edward was high and merely revelled in the touching. They were lying side by side on Edward's bed when Bella had called his name, her voice reedy. "Something's wrong. Help me," she'd said. Then her eyes rolled back into her head and her body twitched randomly and unnaturally.

Edward called an ambulance, piecing together what had happened only as he paced the waiting room at the hospital, all but going out of his skin. She had a headache earlier. A bad one. He'd tossed her a bottle of aspirin, telling her to take four to speed up her recovery - teenage logic.

He remembered belatedly that he'd replaced the aspirin with ecstasy tablets to hide it from nosy adults.

Bella's father made the decision to take her off life support the day she turned 17.

~0~

Edward went home. He locked himself in his house, refusing to let even his brother and sister in, for weeks on end. He didn't know why discovering a random stranger he'd connected with for a handful of conversation had such a lasting affect on him. As it stood, he couldn't shake the images in his head of Jasper sprawled out on the cold floor - alone. He obsessed over thoughts of clutter and filth, wondering if that was the reason Jasper had always changed the subject or made excuses when Edward asked to see his home.

He was wrapped in a vicious cycle. He relived Bella's death, wracked with a guilt so powerful he curled into a fetal ball on his bed, as if by making himself smaller, the overwhelming emotion would be more manageable. From there he would be viciously angry. He punched the hell out of the walls in his room, his knuckles bleeding as he cursed everyone and everything he could think of. Jasper for being such a fucking idiot. All of their parents - from his own for dying, to Jasper and Bella's father's for choosing such horrible women for partners. But mostly he cursed himself for being unable to help either of them. And that was when despair came over him, sending him to his knees.

The first time, though, he'd been completely alone. At seventeen, he hadn't spoken to Emmett in over a year - angry that his older brother had abandoned Alice to go to Notre Dame, all the way across the country. As he was shuffled from juvenile detention to group home after group home, Alice was none the wiser.

Now, Emmett came to his door. The first two weeks he left without much trouble when Edward yelled through the door for him to go away. Alice was a little more persistent, but eventually she too would get the hint and leave the bags of grocery she'd purchased for him at his front door.

They wouldn't understand. Neither of them knew about Bella. Neither of them knew that he'd abused drugs and gotten clean all before his 18th birthday. He couldn't even begin to explain how he felt about Jasper. He didn't want to have to try.

He wallowed. He sank.

On the third week, Emmett said that either Edward was going to let him in or he was going to call the cops. Edward let him in, played the part for an hour or two to get his brother to leave, then he would shut himself up again, completely exhausted. He slept for entire days. He ate very little.

He had more downs than ups as weeks progressed. The only advantage was that when he had spurts of energy, all of his emotions came out in the form of words - the thoughts that consumed and poisoned him pouring out of his system and onto the blank screen or page in front of him.

Slowly, Edward started to pick himself up again. Alice took to bringing him whole meals instead of groceries and staying while he ate it. Emmett brought over movies that were lighthearted or highly explosive. It began to sink into Edward that his siblings loved him, even if they couldn't understand what was wrong with him. They cared enough that Emmett abandoned his girlfriend, Rosalie, all too often, and Alice took time away from her busy business.

It was either very fortunate or very unfortunate that Alice was there when the call came in.

"Hello?" Edward answered the phone despite the fact he had no idea who was calling. The number on the screen was unfamiliar. Still, it was an interruption from having to pay attention to Alice's chipper rambling.

There was a loud sniffle on the other end of the phone, and then a chuff. "Edward?" a wavering voice said.

Despite the fact that it had been months and the last time he'd heard that voice the tone betrayed nothing but confidence, Edward recognized it instantly. "Jasper?" he gasped.

Another sniffle. He was crying. His voice was completely broken and lost when he spoke. "I... uh. I'm.. I'm fucked up, man."

Eventually, with Edward's soothing, Jasper was calm enough to speak. He had overdosed and awoke in the hospital several days previous. He was completely fucked up. Between the lack of drugs in his system and the overpowering realization that he'd been too, too, too close to dying, Jasper was rocked to his very core.

"I don't want to die," he said, his voice cracking. "Not like this. I need help. Please," he begged, "I don't know who else to call."

Edward closed his eyes tightly, hearing Bella's last plea echo in his mind.

He hadn't been able to help Bella. He wouldn't let it be the same for Jasper.

~0~

Alice was an angel about everything. She helped Edward make all the arrangements, even going as far as to rent a private jet to fly them down to California and back up to Washington. Edward wanted Jasper as far away from his old friends - anyone who could facilitate his fall back into drugs.

The journey was everything but easy. Certainly, there were moments of levity. When Jasper could be distracted from the tremors that shook him to the core and when he could string his thready thoughts together into a solid sentence, Edward easily remembered why they felt so natural together. Though it shouldn't have surprised him, Jasper even got along well with Alice. They spoke about favorite artists, Alice suggesting mildly that when Jasper was up to it, maybe he could show her his work. Alice owned an art gallery and favored new talent.

The bad parts were horrible - ugly.

"I'm not a fucking toddler," Jasper thundered one day when Edward refused to let him out the door. He wasn't allowed to go anywhere alone. Edward had learned the hard way that the other man could find trouble if he was left alone for any length of time. He was desperate enough for a fix that he'd somehow gotten a hold of a bottle of Vicodin. Edward had to wrestle it from him.

"What do you need?" Edward asked, trying to remain calm.

Jasper's logic didn't function as well as it should have in those days. Eventually, he faltered under Edward's questioning. His excuses became pleas. Just a little hit. Just something - anything, and he would be okay. As Edward argued back, trying to reason with an unreasonable force, Jasper unravelled completely. He rushed at Edward, fists raised, but weeks of fighting his addiction had taken their tole on his strength. Edward was able to pin him.

"You want to hurt me, Jasper? Is that what you really want?" Edward challenged. He let the other man go and Jasper spun, his face furious. "Fine. Do whatever you want, but you're not going out that door."

Jasper took a step toward him, his hands in fists.

Then he screamed - a wordless howl that was agony and misery. Jasper had numbed the bad feelings for so long that they seemed all the more intense. That combined with the ache of want - no - the desperate need made the feeling that consumed him all the more unbearable. He collapsed to his knees, wrapping his arms around his head.

Wordless and helpless to stop his friend's pain, Edward slipped silently out of the room. He locked the door from the outside and stood in the hallway, letting Jasper's wordless wails wash over him like waves on a violent sea slapped the sides of a boat. He shook, his mind tossing in the turbulence of his own thoughts and Jasper's unimaginable pain.

With a cry that was all impotent rage and overwhelming fear, Edward drove his fist into the wall. When doing so alleviated the pain in his heart for a few precious seconds, he did it again. He punched the wall over and over and over - a feeling like he would surely burst into flames of damning hellfire coming over him that he had no name for and absolutely nothing left to deal with it.

He'd thought he hit rock bottom after the devastation of Bella's death. This was worse. He felt like he was on the very edge of failure. It felt like failing her all over again. And he knew he wouldn't survive this if Jasper didn't .

Alice found him on his knees in the hallway, sobbing in great gasps with a mangled, bloody, definitely broken hand. Jasper had screamed himself hoarse, but his cries were still audible through the door.

Alice called Emmett. Emmett did not understand or agree with what Edward was doing, but he didn't argue when his little sister told him to babysit Jasper. Then Alice drove an unnaturally quiet Edward to the hospital. As usual, she filled in the conversation for both of them.

"You can't do this alone, Edward. It's too much for any one person to handle."

Edward said nothing, ignoring the tear that trailed down his cheek.

"I've looked into clinics nearby-"

"I'm not going to abandon him. I can't. I know you don't get it - but I can't," Edward bit out.

"It's not abandonment. The clinics... they believe family and friends - a support system - is essential to overcoming addiction," Alice explained lightly. "There are visiting hours, and some of the counseling sessions are done on a group basis - with addicts and their families."

Edward turned the word family over in his mind. "You care about him," he said flatly.

"Yes," Alice answered. "I don't think he's a bad person, Edward. And I don't think we always have a choice about who gets tangled up in our lives."

~0~

The only good thing about hitting rock bottom was the sense of finality it brought with it. There were two choices - death or up. Edward and Jasper chose up.

Edward was surprised when Jasper readily agreed to go into a clinic. The blond-haired man had merely touched the cast on Edward's hand. "I hurt you."

"I did this to myself," Edward assured him.

But Jasper only shook his head. "No. You're the only one who ever gave a shit, and I hurt you," he repeated, and Edward understood. But then, Jasper's eyes had grown sad and uncertain. "You won't just … leave me?" he asked, his voice strangely childlike.

Edward grasped the other man's hand tightly in his good one. "I won't," he promised.

It was a promise he kept.

~0~

Their first decade together was the most tumultuous - marked with constant battles. Jasper struggled to beat his addiction, and then struggled with all the issues his drug use had smothered. With someone else to support and lean on, Edward similarly came to terms with his own dysfunction.

It wasn't all steep cliffs though. Along the way, there were beautiful meadows. Like every failure, and every bad day was amplified by the very nature of their afflictions, the good days and sweet moments were heavier shades of wonderful than any 'normal' person would ever experience.

Life was most precious to those who had to fight for it.

They learned together how to deal with the chaos of their own minds, making their home a calm and peaceful place to be. Alice and Emmett accepted Jasper completely, and all together they made for what Alice called a Stitch-family: little and broken, but still good.

After Jasper got out of the clinic and started pulling himself together, figuring out the wants and desires his heroin addiction had all but erased, he and Edward were drawn together again. It was more than just appreciation on Jasper's part. They were still kindred spirits - lost souls who'd found each other on a beach, far away from where either of them had begun.

Marking their tenth year together, Edward and Jasper returned to Shutters. They made use of the too-comfortable bed and then the wide, whirlpool tube.

Relaxing in the tub, with Edward's back against his chest, Jasper asked a question he'd asked over and over throughout the years. "Why do you love me? I'm so fucked up."

Edward had to smile because, despite what Jasper had put him through, he asked the same question frequently. "Because I love you as is."

**~Fin~**

**A/N: I bow at the feet of Unf4Rob who is made of amazing and beta'ed this for me... and reminded me to change it back to balls ffs.**

**Twanza. I flove you. Lol. Angst on the beach - only me, right?**


	7. Tellingmelies EB

**Title: Breaking The Fixation**   
**Pairing: E/B**   
**Rating: M**   
**Recipient: tellingmelies**   
**What you should read of theirs: No Place Like Home – it's hilarious. Edward is sexy and Bella is snarky and made of ossim.**   
**Prompt: Edward is Bella's bodyguard. Bella is in a band that includes Rose and Jacob.**

**Songs: Time is Running Out – Muse, Run to You – Whitney Houston, In Need – Sheryl Crow**

**Dear Friend: ZOMG, my Jenn. My kindred spirit with poor musical taste (joking…really…don't look at me like that, I AM!). You are a gem and a treasure and I just love you to pieces. Thanks for putting up with the lunacy that is me. Thanks for the best trip EVER. Thanks for being made of amazing. I love you. Love- your hetero life mate, Not-So-Silent-Kris**

**Disclaimer: Not SM. Just playing with her ossim toys.**

"I'm not doing it."

Edward Cullen stared down his father - and boss - with his arms crossed and a deadly serious expression on his face.

Carlisle quirked an eyebrow at his youngest son and steepled his fingers, studying him intently. "See, you're mistaking this as a request. It's not a request. This is an assignment, Edward."

"Dad-"

"Son, you are, of course, free to do as you want. However, if you refuse this assignment, you will be looking for another job," Carlisle said in his usual, infuriatingly compassionate tone.

"You wouldn't do that."

Carlisle leaned forward slightly. "Try me."

"If I'm unemployed I'd be back in your house," Edward threatened.

"Your mother would love to have an errand boy around the house again."

For long, tense seconds both men stared - Carlisle patient and unwavering, and Edward glaring. Edward's lips twitched in irritation. "Your errand boy or Mom's - that's the choice, is it?"

"If you choose to see it that way," his father responded smoothly. "Your mother would have help carrying curtains and tiles. My errand boys," Carlisle's lips took on the barest hint of a smirk, "get to carry guns. Stick with me and you might just get to save a life."

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Edward pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Don't exaggerate. Celebrities have an inflated sense of self-importance. This one will be just like all the others - not in danger from anyone except their own, paranoid delusions."

After spending the last four years of his life as a private hire bodyguard working for his father's firm, Edward had a lot of experience with overbearing celebrities. Luckily, being that they were based out of Seattle, their duties were typically short term. Still, Edward had spent more time than he ever wanted in unnecessarily spendy boutiques while his charges stared suspiciously at every person who so much as glanced their way.

Carlisle shook his head, pushing a paper toward him. "Not this time." As Edward picked up the paper – what appeared to be a letter – Carlisle filled him in on the details. "Our new clients are a band called Highly Unlikely. The lead singer, Bella Swan, has obtained a rather persistent admirer."

"Jesus," Edward muttered, reading over the letter from one Mike to Bella Swan. The contents of the letter made his skin crawl. He sighed. "Fine," he conceded, "I'll admit that at least this Bella Swan needs protection."

"So glad you've lent your validation," Carlisle said dryly. "But your brother agrees. And since he's the group leader for this run, you're doing what he says. Bella Swan will be your responsibility."

**~0~**

"I'm not doing this!" Bella protested.

Her best friend and band manager, Angela Weber, sighed, removing her glasses so she could rub tiredly at her eyes. "Bella, don't mistake this as a request. This is happening."

"It's not like we're being pretentious," Rosalie said in her usual, disinterested voice. She was leaning against the wall, looking perfect as usual. Perfectly cut jeans with fades in just the right place. Perfect, straight, blond hair falling down to her shoulders. Designer top and jacket. But despite her look, Rosalie wouldn't have stood for hiring bodyguards unless she thought they were warranted. She could take care of herself. More than once an overzealous fan had found themselves with an extremely high heel strategically placed at the most sensitive area of their bodies. "This is a real threat. And your safety is on the line more than anyone else."

"You're blowing this out of proportion. It's a letter-" Bella began only to be cut off by the band's third member.

"You're not taking this seriously enough," Jacob said, his arms crossed as he stared at her sternly. "It's a creepy letter. You're telling me this guy is harmless enough that you wouldn't mind being alone with him in a room?"

Bella's stomach twisted, a distinct chill running down her spine as she remembered the words of the letter. "Well, of course not. But there's a big difference between not being alone with a fan and having a bodyguard. I can take care of myself."

"This is a disturbed individual," Angela argued, brandishing the offending letter. "You don't know what this kind of person is capable of." She shook her head. "A bodyguard just ensures that you'll be safe while we figure this out."

Bella opened her mouth to argue again, but then she heard a car pull into the driveway. Time was up. "I'll be in my room," she said, grabbing her guitar and heading away from the bodyguards she wanted nothing to do with.

Back in the safety of her room, Bella quickly shut the door, locking it for good measure. She lay on her bed, staring up at the ceiling as she tried to get a grip on her frustration.

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate what she had. It was just that the group's rise had been so sudden. Bella loved music, but she had never believed that she could make a life or a living off of it. She and Jacob had formed the band on a whim, and Rosalie joined because the music his friend, Seth, wrote included a keyboard. So Jacob drummed, Bella sang and played guitar, and Rosalie worked the keyboard. Bella loved it when they were playing small, intimate venues around town, making a room full of no more than sixty people feel a good beat. She never dreamed that anyone would pay them for it – let alone that they would start selling out arenas. So while Bella counted her blessings that she didn't have to worry about her bills anymore, she also missed the quiet normalcy of her old life. She didn't thrive on attention the way Rosalie did.

Having a bodyguard would be one more chip in the surreal whirlwind her life had become. She didn't care what Rosalie said – it was pretentious. Sarah Mclachlan – who was a million times more famous than she was – had received similar letters. She wrote Possession. She didn't get a bodyguard.

Bella sat up on her bed, dragging her guitar into her lap. She started playing a quick, angry chord, channeling her frustration into her fingers as she played and sang Stabbing Westward's  _Save You_. "If I must be lonely, I think I'd rather be alone."

But no. Jacob and Rosalie were thriving, and while she felt out of control of her life, Bella had to admit that it was wonderful to make a living with her talents. She let her fingers slow to a more relaxed song, closing her eyes as she let her life fade away into the smooth sounds.

**~0~**

The blond bombshell was exactly what Edward expected. He was no fashion expert, but anyone could see that Rosalie Hale wore more money on her body every day than most people made in a month. Her face was so immaculately painted that she could have been a good ten or fifteen years older than she looked. But because he'd read up on Highly Unlikely and anyone associated with the band, he knew she was only four years older than she looked. Anyone asked would guess her age to be around 21 - and that only because they would fall over themselves for the honor of buying her a drink. She looked the part of a royal pain in the ass, and Edward found himself thanking any available deity that she would be Emmett's problem.

Jacob Black was no different. He wore his hair in a long, indie-rocker fashion and came complete with two groupie who seemed to flank him constantly. They'd been in almost every non-stage photo Edward had seen of the man. At 22, he was the band's youngest member. Since he had a built in entourage - and was plenty buff on his own - he wasn't getting a personal guard, though he had agreed to wear a tracking device and carry a walkie-talkie so they could get in touch easily.

"This is Emmett McCarty," Jasper introduced the group to the burliest of the three of them. "He'll be with you, Rosalie."

Rosalie looked Emmett over, and Edward could see the other man was fighting a pleased smirk. Inwardly, he rolled his eyes, hoping Emmett could maintain a modicum of professionalism. Rosalie turned to Angela with a mischievous smile. "He can guard my body any day."

Emmett couldn't help his grin then.

Which left 24 year old Bella Swan. Only careful practice hid the grimace from his face. As the group's lead singer, she was doubtless the biggest diva. Apparently she found this rather important meeting about her own safety either completely irrelevant to her interests or she was simply running very, very late. Either way, Edward was irritated. There weren't a lot of things in his life he found more frustrating than trying to protect a person who was working against him every step of the way.

He cleared his throat to get Jasper's attention. His brother looked over from where he had been talking with Angela. Edward raised an eyebrow. Jasper rolled his eyes and turned back to Angela.

"So, when do we meet Miss Swan? She really should be a part of this conversation," Jasper asked in his usual, gentle manner.

Angela screwed her mouth up in that way people tended to right before they had to tell a big lie. She started to speak, but just then a door opened, and a young woman descended the stairs.

It took Edward a moment to realize who the woman was. In a flannel shirt and faded jeans, Bella was nothing like the gussied up little punk girl he'd seen in her pictures. Her hair flowed, loose and lovely about her shoulders as she walked down the stairs, and when she looked up Edward noticed that she had not a single speck of make-up on.

But when he looked into her eyes the most peculiar thing happened. There was a strange sense he got – like he was staring into eyes that were familiar to him. Comfortable. His head swam, and his chest tightened as if he was underwater but without the burning discomfort in his lungs.

"Edward!" Jasper's sharp voice cut through his haze. Edward's head snapped over to his older brother.

"What?" he said intelligently.

Jasper arched a single eyebrow. Over his shoulder, Edward could see Emmett looking back and forth between them, as if trying to figure out what was going on with his friend and colleague. "I was just telling Miss Weber that you would be working with Miss Swan directly," Jasper explained, giving him a hard look. Obviously he'd had to try several times to get Edward's attention, and he wasn't pleased about it.

Clearing his throat, Edward nodded, trying to reassemble his suddenly disjointed thoughts. He turned to find Bella was still staring at him, her eyes cautious and her cheeks mysteriously flushed. Lacking his usual, confident manner, Edward extended a hand. "I'm Edward Cullen."

"Bella Swan," Bella offered, taking Edward's hand and squeezing as she shook.

Her touch thrilled him.

_What the fuck is that about?_

**~0~**

"I apologize for the inconvenience, but I'm afraid that is completely out of the question," Edward said, his voice firm and his eyes hard.

Bella glared at him. "Would you quit talking to me like you're some damn customer support person? It's not an inconvenience. This is my life. I want to do it."

She could see that Edward had every intention of arguing, but then Jasper stepped between them. "Bella," he said, his voice soothing, "I know it's a pain in the ass, but Edward's right. It's just not a good time."

It took all the patience Bella had not to cross her arms and sulk like a child. As it was, she hated that she had to ask permission to do an impromptu, intimate show - as if she was some teenage pop star who had to ask her parents before making a booking. "I still think you're making too big a deal of this whole thing," she insisted.

Edward let out a small sigh and pushed off of the wall he was leaning against. He went to stand in front of her, and then squatted down so he was better able to look her in the eyes. "Bella, the letters are escalating. This is a serious threat. Please make a conscious effort to keep yourself safe. I'll do everything I can, but I would appreciate a little help." His voice was so sincere as he spoke, his eyes completely serious.

Bella looked down, away from the intensity of his eyes. Her heart pounded hard and fast in her chest. After spending the majority of the past few weeks trying to figure Edward Cullen out, Bella was no closer to her goal than when she'd started. There was no denying the affect he had on her at times, and she could swear that she'd caught him staring more than once. But he always maintained such a cool exterior that she convinced herself she'd imagined it.

Still, sometimes, like right then, she thought she could see a distant ache in his eyes; as if the very thought of her being in danger caused him physical pain. "You're overreacting," she reiterated, but her tone lacked conviction. Swallowing hard, she looked at everyone else. "You're all overreacting."

"Seriously, Bella," Rosalie chimed in, exasperation heavy in her voice. "Are you mental? This guy actually referenced Edward in his last letter. Do you understand what that means? He's stalking you!"

"It doesn't mean anything," Bella insisted. "Edward goes with me everywhere," she said, somewhat bitterly. "No one needs to be stalking me to have noticed the extremely attractive man who's always with me." Bella realized what she said a second too late to retract it. She felt her cheeks get hot as her eyes darted around the room. "Whatever," she grumbled, quickly getting up and heading back up the stairs to her room.

It was times like these when she regretted the group's decision to live together when they were creating a new album. She wanted to retreat to her familiar haven to lick her wounds. But even if she did go home for a night, she was sure Edward would insist on going with her.

Then again, there were some days when the idea of him and her alone in the house was... tantalizing.

Bella flopped down on her bed and grabbed a pillow, holding it over her face. She resisted the urge to squirm. Her undeniable attraction to Edward was confusing given that the man was the bane of her existence of late.

A soft knock at her door made Bella groan. Maybe it was Rosalie, ready to give her shit over calling Edward attractive. Bella scoffed lightly to herself. As if the girl had any room to talk. When she wasn't working on their music she was flirting with Emmett.

The knock came again, accompanied by a soft, "Bella?" that definitely wasn't Rosalie. Instantly, Bella's cheeks flamed again. Edward.

With a sigh, Bella dragged herself to her feet. She'd have to face the music eventually. "Come in," she called.

Edward entered, his face a mask to any emotion, though his look was not as severe as she knew it could be. They regarded each other in surprisingly un-awkward silence before Edward spoke quietly. "I know this is hard for you. Jasper is working as hard as he can to find this guy. Then your life can go back to normal."

Bella's answering smile was sardonic. "As normal as my life ever is," she muttered. She looked at him then, feeling ungrateful. "I know you're only doing your job, and I'm thankful for that. I just... I can take care of myself."

He studied her for a moment. "Can you?"

"Excuse me?" Bella's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"I'm not saying you're not tough, Bella," Edward said, holding his hands out in a placating motion. "I can see you're very tough. But if this guy is a real threat, it's not the same thing as being firm with an overzealous fan." Again he studied her, his eyes uncertain for a moment before they became resolved. "Have you had any kind of self defense training?"

Bella blinked, not expecting that question. "Um ... no. Time got away from me, I guess. My dad wanted to teach me, but I was never with him long enough." She gave a sheepish grin. "He keeps me in pepper spray, though."

He nodded as if he'd expected that answer. "Well, let me help you. Once we figure this guy out and the danger is past, at least you'll have those skills, right?"

That was how Bella found herself literally trapped in Edward's arms for the remainder of the afternoon. He showed her how to get out of hold after hold, and Bella did her damndest to pay attention. She knew what he was teaching her was important but...

It was difficult to concentrate when she was pinned back against his chest, or when his strong hands formed shackles around her wrists. She'd long ago discovered that his touch sent pleasant chills down her spine, but this was almost too much stimulation. Her body felt alive. It seemed unnatural to break his hold on her when all she wanted was for him to hold her tighter.

As the afternoon wore on, Edward was a little rougher with her - simulating what a real struggle might be like. He called out instructions as they wrestled, praising her when she made the right moves.

Time seemed to freeze completely and instantaneously when their struggling led him to pin her against the wall. His hands were around her wrists, holding her arms above her head. There was less than an inch of space between their bodies. They were both breathing hard, and his hot breath on her mouth made Bella's head swim with want.

"I, um..." Edward murmured, his eyes dark and locked on hers. The air around them was alive. Magnetized. He swayed visibly on his feet.

Bella felt completely out of control of her body. The heat between them threatened to overwhelm her, and she couldn't help but give in to the pure need to feel his body against hers. She arched up, closing the tiny distance between them and aligning their bodies. In response, his body pressed against hers, pinning her back against the wall.

Edward's head dipped, and his lips tickled the skin of her neck, barely touching.

And then he pulled back. Just as suddenly, he was across the room, his hand on the door. "I have to... I need..." He shook his head, as if he was disoriented, and then he was out the door, leaving Bella breathless and wanting against the wall.

**~0~**

The three bandmates had sequestered themselves in the house for three straight days as one of their songs was coming together. Edward was pleased. It gave him a chance to clear his head while doing his job from a distance. When the band was practicing in the house he and Emmett mostly just watched the property from the house they'd rented across the street, occasionally walking the perimeter to make sure all was well.

Still, Edward's thoughts wandered often - too often - back to Bella's room, and her slight body against his.

"Edward!"

Edward jumped in his seat, whirling around to find himself face to face with his older brother. "What?" he said, the word coming out irritated and guilty.

Jasper's eyes narrowed. "What is wrong with you? I've been standing here for almost five minutes, and you didn't even notice. Three armed men in ski masks could have walked up to that house," he pointed at the band's house across the street, "and it would have gotten by you. What's going on?"

Edward frowned. "I'm watching the house," he defended.

"No," Jasper shook his head. "You're daydreaming. Like a g'damned school boy. You need to cut it the fuck out because this guy is going to make his move soon." He threw a letter in Edward's lap. "Pull yourself together, and do your job."

With that, Jasper stalked away, leaving Edward to stew in his guilt. The fact that Jasper was so on edge had Edward's stomach twisting with dread. His normally calm brother was not only aggravated that he hadn't been able to figure out who this mystery Mike was, he was also extremely worried. One look at the letter showed why: Mike's plans were getting more concrete. He spoke in his letter about a place where they could be alone for miles around them. He spoke of plans, and that he'd come for her soon so they could be together.

Edward shuddered, his blood automatically boiling at the thought of someone getting to her. It was his job to make sure his charges didn't get hurt, and Edward took pride in doing his job. Still, the idea of Bella being threatened, possibly injured or worse was somehow unendurable to him.

But one cardinal rule of his job was to not get personally invested. He needed to be thinking clearly and logically in order to protect Bella properly.

So when Bella called him to her room the next day, Edward had every intention of maintaining an emotionless exterior. He couldn't allow himself to be affected by whatever pull this girl had on him. He resolved to be completely professional.

His will crumbled to dust as he stood in the doorway of her room. She was facing away from him, looking at something in her closet. When he cleared his throat she spun, her whole face lighting up as she smiled. He couldn't help it. Seeing her smile triggered a warm, happy feeling in his chest, and Edward smiled back.

Bella bounced forward, grabbing his hand and tugging him into the room, shutting the door behind them. She was talking before he could say a word. "So, it occurred to me that self defense lessons aren't exactly part of your job description. I was thinking that since you taught me something, I could return the favor."

Edward raised an eyebrow, knowing he should say no, but he was just too curious.

Seeming pleased that he wasn't protesting, Bella gave him a gentle shove toward the bed. "How are you with a guitar?"

Edward sat on the edge of the bed, his mouth forming an 'o' of surprise. He certainly hadn't expected that. "It's my brother who plays the guitar. I'm more the piano man," he admitted, smirking slightly.

"That's actually a good thing," Bella said, her head in the closet now as she rummaged around. She pulled out an acoustic guitar and ambled over to the bed. As she spoke, she began to hang the guitar strap over his shoulder. "They say that the piano is the foundation for every instrument." She smiled at him, and Edward was momentarily bewitched by her closeness and the happiness in her eyes. This was clearly her element, and she was sharing it with him.

The spell was broken just enough for Edward to gather his thoughts as she stepped away from him, picking up her own guitar and sitting cross legged at the head of the bed. Slowly, he mimicked her position, facing her.

She taught him the basic chords, and she was right: because of his foundation in the piano, playing the guitar came fairly naturally. It didn't take long before he was following her more complicated harmony with the simple melody she was teaching him.

He remembered the early days of college - doing exactly this: sitting cross-legged on a girl's bed and talking. Back then everyone he knew was so young and idealistic.

That was what Bella looked like then - young and pure. There, on her bed with her guitar in her hands, she was completely safe and comfortable. As her fingers expertly and gracefully danced along the guitar strings her lips turned up in a private smile. Her eyes were soft - staring at nothing. Her face held none of the worry or self-consciousness.

Then, almost as if it were an accident, Bella began to sing. Her voice belonged on a stage in a blues lounge - surrounded by hazy lighting that always made the surroundings look smoky. Her voice was where she hid all of her pain and uncertainty. She was an enigma - a fresh faced little girl with a tone that warned him she wasn't as naive as he might have thought.

And he had to admit then that she was nothing like he'd assumed. She wasn't an attention whore or a pampered brat.

She stopped strumming, her voice cutting off like a needle ripped from a record, leaving only the curiously rhythmic gasps of her surprised breaths. Edward realized belatedly that his hand was on her cheek, his fingertips memorizing the softness of her skin. He looked up, finding wide, deep, doe-eyes that betrayed an innocence she normally kept hidden.

"Whose song was that?" he found himself asking though he really didn't give a damn. He didn't know why he was asking except that it gave him an excuse to watch her lips move again.

"Sheryl Crow," she answered, her voice shaky. She wasn't moving, but she wasn't pushing him away either.

Without looking away from her, Edward put his guitar to the side. Immediately, his hands returned to her face, both of them cupping her cheeks. "It's a very pretty song," he said, meaning something else entirely. The song was pretty, but the words were meant for Bella. Her cheeks heated under his fingers and he sighed, feeling the last semblance of self control slip away. So slowly, he leaned in, and they both panted lightly into each other's mouths. Then, he kissed her.

When he found her lips fit perfectly with his, he kissed her again. Her breath stuttered as she kissed him back. They were soft, slow, wondering kisses that lasted for all of fifteen seconds until they both needed more.

Then Bella broke their kiss, pulling back. Edward was about to apologize, but her quick movements stopped him. She undid the strap from her guitar, shoving it to the side with an uncharacteristic disregard. He barely had time to think about that before she was on her knees in front of him, her arms wrapping around him, and her hands threading into his hair. Their lips attacked each other. Her lips wrapped around his tongue, and she sucked gently, making Edward's eyes roll back into his head. His hands gripped her waist harder than he wanted, but she only moaned against his mouth.

Edward couldn't have stopped even if he wanted to at that point. His body was not his own; it belonged to hers, so he wasn't at all surprised when he found himself propelled forward, Bella beneath him with their mouths still connected. He braced himself up on his arms, his fingers tracing the lines of her face. Her hands were still on him, and her legs were spread around him.

Bella's hands at his back encouraged him to put more of his weight on her. It was the right move because she began to move underneath him, her body rising and pressing up against his in all the right places. Edward whimpered and it should have been shameful. Hell, the fact that he was grinding against his client while she wiggled and writhed under him should be shameful, but all he could think was that he wanted more.

Their lips parted long enough for him to roll them. It was much better that way - with her weight all on him. His hands had more options. They could cup her breasts, strumming over her nipples the way she would strum a guitar, for instance. Bella gasped, her hips bucking hard against his. Edward drowned his answering groan against the skin of her neck, nipping lightly when he regained control of his senses again.

Jesus Christ, he was going to come in his pants like he was a teenager all over again.

His hands traveled the length of her body, caressing more than grabbing, and then back up her body, under her shirt. Her lips trailed open mouthed kisses along his cheek and across his chin. She was trying to be quiet, but wasn't always successful. Her hips moved faster against him.

He came first, but she wasn't all that far behind, especially after he stuck his hands down her pants, his fingers finding her clit and picking up where she left off.

Then he was looking into her hooded eyes, seeing her lazy smile and thinking how much he...

Edward rolled them again, back to their original position so she was laying on the bed. He might have mumbled something - either way it wasn't the right thing to say after he'd just dry humped the poor girl on her bed - and then he was out of there. He pounded down the stairs, almost plowing into Emmett and Rosalie as they were coming in the front door. He was across the street almost before he realized he left. And he was pacing in his dirty pants with a semi-hard cock that ached to be inside the girl he was supposed to protect.

_Jesus Christ, what am I doing?_

He showered and changed, using the time to think with his brain instead of his cock. When he was in a fresh set of clothes he found his brother and requested to be taken off the case.

Jasper glared at him. "I'm not going to ask what your problem is because I really don't want to hear it. You can't leave now."

Edward's eyes tightened and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important," he said between clenched teeth.

"I realize that, Edward, but I'm serious. Our time to figure out who this guy is before he gets to be too dangerous is gone."

There was another letter. This one was only two lines.

_**I'm coming for you soon. It's going to be so, so good, you'll see.** _

His need to protect her, to do his job, was greater than his want for... everything else. He could block out everything else, for a time, if it meant she would be safe. He just needed to concentrate - not on whatever was going on between them, but on finding the letter-writing asshole before he found her.

Edward closed his eyes briefly and just hoped she would understand. He had the capacity to save her - but not as her lover or even as her friend. Professional.

And this time he meant it.

**~0~**

"You're back," Bella commented, her voice deadpan when he stepped in the house the next day.

She was hurt. Of course she was hurt. He wanted to drop to his kneed and apologize profusely. Instead he simply said, "So it would appear."

She stared at him, the icy glare that glazed over her eyes obscuring the soft, hurt expression. "You know, I just don't understand. What is it? Are you afraid Daddy would be disappointed with you?" She stared at him, daring him to answer. "You're a coward," she hissed scathingly when he didn't.

Edward's lips twitched ever so slightly. She thought he was ashamed of her. Nothing could be further from the truth. He wanted to tell her everything, but he needed her to take him seriously as her bodyguard. Lovers you could take liberties with. She needed to listen to him now more than ever.

So he looked her in the eye and said the words he'd rehearsed. "Yesterday was a mistake I am very sorry for. It won't happen again, Miss Swan."

**~0~**

_Fuck Edward Cullen._

It was fucking - well, sort of fucking - Edward Cullen that had gotten her in this mess. She tried to convince herself of that fact, but it just wasn't happening. If she was being honest with herself, thoughts of Edward had kept her sleepless for many nights well before anything physical had happened between them.

It didn't hurt as much then as it did now, though.

_So, again, fuck Edward Cullen._

Beyond being just hurt, Bella was frustrated. It had been a couple of years since their little group had hit the big time. In those couple of years none of the romantic encounters she'd been a part of had been anything but bullshit. There were the men who saw only her celebrity, or the men who thought they knew her because of the songs she sang.

But whatever it was between her and Edward - it had felt real.

Bella closed her eyes tightly, making an impossible wish. She wanted it to be years ago - before she was rich and famous. She wanted to go back to a time when her life was based in mundane reality, and the only surreal thing that happened to her was when forty or so people paid to hear her sing in a tiny club.

Before she'd fallen head over heels for her fucking bodyguard. Shit like that happened to people like Britney Spears - not her.

Shaking off the oppressive sadness, Bella grabbed at her phone, scrolling through the numbers until she found the right one. Minutes later she had booked a late night gig at a tiny club that held no more than seventy five people, including the bartenders. Just her, the stage, and her guitar.

And she had no intention of telling Edward or his brother.

**~0~**

"She's insane. She has utterly lost her mind!" Edward bellowed, running his hands through his hair nervously.

It had only been fifteen minutes since Bella was discovered missing, but Edward was about ready to lose  _his_ mind at the lack of clues they had. Where would she go? All of the friends she typically hung out with were in the house. All they knew so far was that she had to have scaled the tree by her bedroom window because she definitely hadn't gone out the front or the back door. This fact both horrified and impressed Edward to no end.

"Found her!" Emmett announced. He held his phone up for Edward to see.

She was all over Twitter, having been sighted as giving a solo performance downtown.

But if they could see her, that meant Mike could too. "Fuck!" Edward was out the door in the next instant.

**~0~**

At first, it was exactly what Bella wanted. It was definitely more crowded than she remembered it, but then again, it was no impersonal arena either. For a song or two she was flying, her heart and soul completely in the music. Everything else faded away.

But then she became aware of the clamor of the crowd. The typical roar had become too loud to ignore. She blinked into the bright light.

There were a lot more people than should be in the club.

Before she knew what was happening there was a scream of pain. Bella's eyes darted to the edge of a stage where an unfortunate teenager was being crushed against the wood of the stage by the sheer force of the amount of people in the room. Bella dropped her guitar, going and trying to pull the girl to safety.

Instead, the grasping hands grabbed at her, pulling her head first into the throng of people.

Bella felt like she was being pulled in every direction at once. There were hands everywhere - people pulling at her hair, and her clothes. She heard several rips and the little half-jacket she was wearing disappeared at some point. She wasn't sure that she was actually on her feet at any point so much as being propelled by whatever force was the strongest at any given moment.

She fought back, clawing at hands and shoving away bodies. The screaming around her was completely incoherent. She was struggling for purchase but slowly being pushed down. There were feet stomping and she was going to be trampled to death by her own fucking fans.

And then there was a strong hand on her arm, tugging her upright. There was an arm wrapped around her waist, and she was pulled up tight against a sturdy, body.  _Edward,_ her mind cried desperately, and she clung to him, both arms around his waist and her head turned into his chest as he made a path for them.

Bella's thoughts didn't become at all concrete until they were suddenly outside. The coolness of the air was a stark contrast to the oppressive heat of the club. It was still noisy though, and people still shouted around them. Bella kept her head against Edward's chest as they kept on walking - or rather running - toward whatever destination he had in mind.

They took a twist and a turn and another twist down a street and the back alleys. Bella heard a door open, and then they were inside again. She was breathing hard. So was he. It was dark, but they were inside.

Whatever was left of the fog that had settled over her mind lifted. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Her body ached, and she should be feeling relief that she was out of danger, but she wasn't.

A glance around showed that they were in some sort of abandoned building. She could see boxes and random pieces of furniture strewn around in the dim light. Her heart started to beat hard, and she couldn't catch her breath. She looked up and found herself staring into two ice blue eyes. Ice blue. Not beautiful, emerald green.

Bella screamed and tried to push herself away from the stranger - it had to be Mike - but he held her fast. "Shhh," he said. "It's okay. You're safe now."

"Th-thank you," she forced herself to say, trying to calm her voice. "Let me go now. Please. I need to call some people who are probably very worried about me."

His eyes hardened, and he didn't let her go. Instead his hands, one on either arm now, tightened. "The pretty boy, right? Is he your boyfriend? Well, he doesn't love you the way I do, Bella."

 _Oh, sweet Jesus._  He was insane. Her eyes narrowed, and she used her firm voice now. "Listen, let me go, right now," she demanded, trying again to tug her arms from his grasp.

He shoved her hard against wall, one hand on her chest, and Bella gasped as what little breath she had whooshed out of her. "I knew you were going to be difficult. You're so feisty," he chuckled, shaking his head. As he spoke he used his free hand to slide a pack off his shoulder that she hadn't noticed before. He let it fall to the floor. When her eyes darted away from his, down to the bag, she could see a roll of duct tape sitting on top of whatever else he had in there. "It's going to be okay," he said soothingly. "You'll see. I have such great things planned for us, Bella."

A thousand thoughts ran through Bella's mind at once, not the least of which was that Edward right. This man was no ordinary punk. He was crazy, obviously well built, and twice her size.

She heard Edward's voice in her mind, telling her that size didn't matter if she knew how to apply the right type of force.

Screaming as loud as she could, Bella brought her knee up hard into his groin. The second that she felt the pressure on her chest loosen, she shoved him with both hands. Crying out in pain, Mike stumbled away from her, and Bella wasted no time. She pivoted and ran, but an unforgiving hand wrapped around her wrist, pulling her backward.

She was pulled against Mike's broad chest as he wheezed. One of his arms pinned both of hers at her sides while the other went straight to her neck and squeezed. "Don't you understand?" he shook her as she gagged. "Don't make me hurt you. I don't want to hurt you."

Bella's lungs burned with the need the breathe. She struggled not to panic, trying to remember everything Edward had taught her. Finally, her mind was able to grasp the situation, analyzing her position. She slammed her foot down on Mike's instep. Mike yelled, his hold loosening some but not enough. Bella flung her head back hard, feeling her skull connect with Mike's nose. His grip loosened enough then that she could clasp her hands together, driving her right elbow back into his stomach. He screamed as he let her go, and again Bella ran blindly.

This time she was able to almost get to the door before Mike's entire weight slammed into her legs as he tackled her. She fell face first to the ground, momentarily stunned. Mike was yelling words at her, but she couldn't really hear them. They all blended together, partly because she was so scared that she couldn't concentrate enough to actually comprehend them and partially because his nose was gushing blood. She was screaming, though what she honestly had no idea, and was trying to claw her way to her feet.

The door flew open then, nearly hitting her head, and the loud noises became overwhelming. There were many people shouting now, and Mike's weight disappeared from her legs. Then someone was pulling her up. Immediately, Bella recoiled, but the hands held her fast. She looked up, completely frantic.

Green eyes.

Very worried, very intense green eyes.

She glued herself to his side, and Edward didn't need any further prompting. He yelled something over his shoulder, and began leading her away quickly. He didn't stop until they were back indoors somewhere. Daring to look around, Bella almost laughed with relief. They were in the back room of the club.

"Bella," Edward's voice was beginning to cut through the confusion in her mind. "Come on, baby, you have to talk to me. Tell me that you're all right." His hands cupped her face gently, his keen eyes raking over her. They stopped short when he saw that her clothes were ripped. "Son of a bitch!"

"He d-" Bella's voice was trembling right along with her body as adrenaline drained abruptly from her system. She swallowed hard and tried again. "He didn't do that. There were too many people. I fell off the stage and, and, and-" her breath came in uneven bursts, her lungs feeling too tight.

"Shhh, shhh," he soothed, caressing her hair.

"Edward, I was so stupid," she whispered, her body shaking so hard that she wouldn't have been able to stand if he wasn't holding her up.

"Yes," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "You were. You could have been killed. Bella, really. What were you thinking?"

She opened her mouth, wanting to at least try to explain but it came out as a cry. She sunk against him, tears she hadn't even realized had gathered in her eyes spilling down her cheeks.

"God, Bella. I'm sorry," he murmured, holding her tightly. He leaned up against a wall, sliding down until he was sitting and bringing her with him. Bella buried her head against his neck, crying uncontrollably with fear and shame. "Shhh. I'm sorry. I was just so scared that I'd never see you again."

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely audible between her sobs.

"It's not your fault." He rocked her, patting her as gently as he could. Though her body hurt like hell, and her throat felt raw from where Mike choked her, Bella only clung to him tighter.

They sat there like that for what might have been hours for all Bella knew. She'd barely begun to calm down when a voice startled her, making her start in Edward's arms. "Is she okay?"

When she processed that it was Jasper's voice, Bella relaxed slightly. She still didn't look up.

"Bella?" Edward asked gently. "Is anything broken or in dire need of attention?"

She shook her head.

"You're still going to the hospital. You know that, right?"

She groaned but didn't argue, and her body shook slightly as Edward chuckled beneath her.

"The police have Mike Newton in custody, Bella," Jasper said quietly from somewhere above her. "He's not going to bother you anymore, okay?"

She shuddered and nodded. "Thank you."

"You fucked him up pretty good, girl," he said, admiration evident in his voice.

Bella smiled just slightly against Edward's skin, but she didn't answer.

"Hey, Jasper," Edward said.

"Yeah?"

Edward put two fingers under her chin, raising her face. Bella looked at him reluctantly. She must have been quite a sight - bruised face, eyes puffy and red from crying. Still, there was only tenderness and reverence on his face as he looked at her. "I fucking quit this assignment," he said to his brother.

Jasper laughed, and Bella smiled. She sighed, calming even further as Edward pressed tiny, oh so gentle kisses across the bridge of her nose, down until he finally got to her lips. "I'm so sorry for what I said before," he murmured between kisses. "I don't regret what happened between us at all."

"That's okay," she said, closing her eyes and breathing him in deep. "I'm really sorry I've been such a pain in the ass about this bodyguard thing." She opened her eyes, giving him a small, but genuine smile. "If it means having you around all the time, I guess it's not such a bad thing."

Edward grinned at her. "Now, as long as I get to kiss you - and then some - I'd say that would be the best assignment ever."

**~0~**

**A/N: Thank you to Barburella and jadedandboring for beta work. Jenn! Jenn. I love you. Come to Orange County where we can stalk… I mean… go see Jackson wherever he may play.**

**PS – Everyone… it's telling. Me. Lies. Not Mellies. Not…anything else weird.**


	8. Bmango EJ

**Title: Distraction**  
 **Pairing: E/J**  
 **Rating: M**  
 **Recipient: BMango**  
 **What you should read of theirs: Beyond Duty - so great. Very original AU Vampward**  
 **Prompt: None. I'm gonna do a proper one for you soon, hon. Props to Donnergirl for the pic that inspired this.**

**Dear Friend: My darling girl. I love talking with you and reading your stories and sharing your ideas. Thanks for waking up with me. I love you. I promise you'll get a full shot soon. Merry Birthday!**

**Disclaimer: Not SM. Just playing with her ossim toys.**

* * *

Jasper's hand hesitated above the paper, wondering if this was a good idea.

He looked around the kitchen, smiling fondly ashe remembered sitting at his counter in his old apartment with Edward by his side. They pored over plans, laughing and dreaming, sharing kisses that tasted like cheap wine as they traded ideas.

Now, over five years later, Jasper looked around, taking in the house they'd designed theselves, together.

His heart gave a bittersweet little lurch.

The house had been fun to design and perfectly reflected their combined tastes, but Edward had gotten a little too used to long hours at work.

What good was having such a fine house when Edward was never around to share it?

Putting that thought aside, he again hoped he was making the right move. Lately, Edward had been on the defensive. Too often, Jasper's sweet entrities were met with, "Babe, I'm busy." Jasper couldn't help his hurt, and it would all devolve into an argument.

Sighing, Jasper wrote his message on the paper and put it next to the things he'd brought. Wine - the good stuff this time, the kind his adorably wine-snobby boyfriend would approve of - cheeses and grapes.

He finished setting things up just in time, hearing the garage door open. Quickly, he slipped upstairs.

Jasper paused outside the bathroom door, taking a moment to admire the space.

This room was all his - which was another reason he wasn't sure this little plan would work.

Edawrd had shaken his head indulgently when Jasper proposed they install the huge, deep tub that took up most of one wall of the master bathroom. It was a gorgeous set up, with marble tiled shelf room and more than enough room for two grown men.

Which was, Jasper hoped, the idea.

He made short work of his clothes, flipping on the hot water tap to begin filling the tub. Nude, he crouched shifting through the the various salts and oils. He hummed to himself, mixing and matching until the tendrils of steam rose, filling the room with a pleasing, floral scent.

When Edward appeared in the doorway, Jasper felt his presence. He didn't turn, but held his hand under the tap, testing the temperature.

Just right.

He waited for a tense moment, but when he heard the tell tale slip of rustling fabric against skin, he grinned. He stood, turning just as Edward stepped out of his boxers.

"Dinner and a bath?" Edward asked, picking up the tray Jasper had prepared and setting it on the flat surface behind the tub.

"I figured you might appreciate the multitasking," Jasper returned, flashing his lover a grin.

Leaning forward, Edward cupped Jasper's cheek, kissing his lips sweetly. "I appreciate it," he assumed.

Winding their fingers together, Jasper tugged Edward's hand. "Come relax, baby. You had a long day."

Jasper climbed into the tub first, opening his arms out for Edward to join him. His lover took a moment to pour the wine into two glasses before he joined him in the water.

"Mmm," Edward moaned as he settled back against Jasper's chest. "The water feels wonderful."

Jasper merely hummed, glad Edward couldn't see his little smirk. His lover was forever poking fun at him for believing that certain scents could be soothing... or alluring as the case might be.

He didn't need to know that Jasper had mixed liberal amounts of both scents into the bath.

For long minutes, they enjoyed the hot water and each others presence, sipping wine and listening to the water sloshing lightly against the side of the tub.

"I'm sorry," Edward said, breaking the silence with a sigh. "I know I've been distant."

"You're here now," Jasper murmured. "That's what counts."

Edward laid his head back on Jasper's shoulder. "I'm a lucky man. I'm not unaware of that."

At that, Jasper had to grin. "You are lucky man." He let his arms wind around his bronze haired lover, dragging the pads of his fingers along Edward's chest, snaking his other hand down lower to graze his length. "And if you really want to make it up to me, then when I get you out of this bath, you're going to get even luckier."

Craning his head back on Jasper's shoulder, Edward smiled back wickedly, his green eyes dark and filled, for once, with lust instead of distraction. "Why wait?" he challenged.

And Jasper couldn't find a reason.


End file.
